


Fission: Conversion

by farad



Series: Fissionverse [1]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fission Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-07
Updated: 2010-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 56,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In science fiction, anything can happen, even the impossible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fission: Conversion

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story complete unto itself, but it doesn't resolve the universe. It's intense, graphic sexually and emotionally, and improbable, but science fiction allows us lots of room to play.
> 
> Special thanks to all my wonderful betas, who include Charlotte, Cattraine, Moonpuppy, Dail, Di, EJ, WB, and many wonderful others who I have plagued, harassed, and generally abused in the process of creating this. All mistakes are my own.

\- 01.20 minutes fusion point

Chris could feel the very air around him humming, shimmering as the ionization increased, the reactor going. Damn the Albouais and their desperation and sacrilegious need to win. The attack here, without warning, was against all concept of fair play. They were starting the war again, as if they hadn't agreed to peace just a year ago.

"Out!" he screamed, looking for Buck to make sure he was out – he'd never come in, thankfully, holding the line at the end of the corridor, keeping the Albies from access to the power-generating materials at the core. "Get those doors closing!"

Vin was already at the panel, his hands deftly working the code as people streamed past him, fleeing the containment area, fleeing the attack.

Another blast rocked the building, debris falling around them – why were they attacking again?

But they were, targeting the power station for this quarter of the planet, to take the resources they needed for themselves –

"Get that damned door!" he screamed, but Vin's voice came back, just as angry.

"The mechanism's jammed, central switching's probably hit. We're gonna have to do this manually."

Chris helped one of the technicians back to her feet – the building was trembling, klaxons louder and more strident as the field failure grew imminent. The Albouais had surrounded the perimeter, not a large enough force to control it, but enough to take what they needed from the core reactors. To steal what they needed and to restart the war at the same time.

He ran to help Vin, moving around the last people out, lab techs from the lowest levels. He wondered how many there were, wondered how many different experiments this plant had running. Vin was struggling with one of the large panel sections, trying to get it open. His hands were slipping on the ceramic plating, the ionization affecting solid forms. Chris didn't want to think about what it was doing to their bodies –

"Dammit!" the other man swore, but then the catch gave and the panels slid apart.

Not that it mattered – the manual release wasn't working either.

"Outside!" Chris shouted, grabbing his teammate by the shoulder. "We'll use the one outside! We can't let them into the core!"

But even as they moved, the door gave way, the fail-safe engaging as the containment field vanished.

White. Blinding white. Then nothing.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 19.75 hours fusion point

Vin woke – or thought he did, but he wasn't certain . He hurt, but it wasn't like any pain he'd ever felt: it was a sort of tingling, tickling, bugs-all-over-and-inside feeling that just bordered on an ache. Opening his eyes didn't seem to help much – he still couldn't tell if he was awake or not.

Everything was white – bright white like he was in a cloud or a white room where he couldn't see where the walls met each other or the floor.

"Tanner?" It didn't sound like a voice, not one he knew, but the third time he registered the noise, he knew it was supposed to be his name.

He tried to speak but couldn't feel his mouth – couldn't feel any of the muscles of his body doing as he told them to, only that strange sensation that was pain but wasn't. Only all this whiteness.

More noise, slowly coalescing into words. "You're alive. So is Larabee. But the radiation . . . you blew the core before the Albouais could get it. We don't know how you survived. We're going to get you out of there, but it's going take a while. It wasn't ready for testing, so they're having to build a containment unit for you. You're going to make history. Just rest for now."

Something seemed to shift in the whiteness then, and, very slowly, images began to permeate the intense nothingness: shadows at first, then outlines, then colors, then depth.

At first, it still didn't make sense, these yellow and red things in front of him, leaning over him, faceless and distorted. It took a while for his brain to pull up the memory of protective suits – radiation suits.

These weren't the emergency ones they kept in the shuttles, but the bulky, almost outdated ones they used for long-term space exposure. The ones that they wore when the radiation was terminal.

He found some little bit of his body, finally managing to turn his head, to understand where he was. Still inside the reactor room. His last memory had been of the door closing, Chris' hand on his, pulling –

Chris.

Movement was slow and seemed to require every bit of his concentration, but eventually he was able to focus. Chris was on his back, like Vin, his eyes closed. Vin knew it had to be his eyes: right now, Chris seemed to be golden, glowing in a way that couldn't be right.

He forced his arm to move, blinking first with the effort, then the surprise of his own flesh coming into view, a deeper, shinier gold even than Chris.

"Tanner?" a voice said, and he noticed movement in the edge of his vision. "Don't – we don't know how the radiation's affecting each of you, but the atomic structure is different! Don't– "

Chris's forearm was hot under his fingers, but dry, no sweat, the muscle tight -

He was knocked back, his arm swinging wide, his whole body skidding across the uneven flooring. Pain came, different from before, but thankfully brief as he was consumed once more in white.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;  
\+ 3 months, 18.67 days fusion point.

"It's been three months." Chris ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the long bangs back on his head.

Not that it mattered; as soon as his hands fell away, landing hard on the table in front of him, the long strands drifted back down, framing his face and curtaining his eyes. Not that they could hide the new glow that deepened the green color: even when his lids were closed, the color was there.

Buck's own hands knotted into fists, the desire to reach out and run his fingers through that hair so strong that he almost couldn't stop it.

But it wouldn't happen, not with the layers of glass and plexi and whatever else the engineers had devised to protect the outside world from the radiation his partner produced. This room, the 'visitor's room', was small and sterile, reminding Buck of the interrogation rooms he'd seen in detention centers; cold metal chairs, hard metal tables, nothing that the radiation could hurt. Nothing comfortable. Outside, there were lab techs and nurses and security guards with some of the most expensive and efficient weapons the Administration could afford.

In here, it was just as cheerless as a prison.

The walls of the room around them were as thick as he was wide, and the doors he had to come through to get in were blast doors, requiring successive different codes to open. He didn't even have a code himself, although he and the rest of the team had been vetted for security clearance to get onto this floor.

"They're doing everything they can, Chris. Mary thinks they may be getting close to something. If nothing else, she thinks they may be able to alter one of you – you or Vin. The experiments they were working on with that reactor saved your life. It's just a matter of time before they figure out how to adapt the reactor to change you, back to normal eventually, but now even just to the same type. If that works, at least the two of you can share living quarters, get you some company. And if it works, it'll give her somewhere to start looking for a way to get the two of you out of this altogether. She's making progress," he said for what seemed to be the millionth time. "It's not fast but – "

"I know!" This time, the connection of his fist to the table was louder and intentional. He pushed up from the chair, pacing the small area of the antechamber; the rest of his living space – 'the cell', as he called it, was solid, with only one doorway into his section.

Containment.

Vin's quarters were behind Buck, behind another plexi-and-glass antechamber behind him, as empty and cold as this one. "I hate this," Chris muttered, the litany starting. "Should have just let me – "

"Don't!" Buck snarled, standing himself. "Don't say that!" He didn't try to stop himself this time, letting his hands touch the clear wall between them, cool and flat and dead. "Chris, don't," he said more softly, almost a whisper, knowing the microphones would pick it up.

Chris sighed, coming to a halt before slowly turning to peer through his hair at his lover. The look on his face, the want, the need, the desperation, made Buck hurt.

But not as bad as the words. "I miss you," Chris breathed. "If I'd known . . . "

But they hadn't. Hadn't even suspected that something like this could happen. He and the others – Nathan, Josiah, Ezra, JD – they'd mourned for a week before they'd been told that Chris and Vin were alive – comatose, but alive.

Radiated in a freak way that made it impossible for them to be around anything living, except for the test animals being used in several top-secret projects being conducted in the power plant. Six of the rats used in those projects had survived the reactor breach, two of them already 'converted', as Dr. Fowler, the scientist in charge of the experiments, liked to call it, and the other four caught in the conversion like Chris and Vin.

Like Chris and Vin, the rats were a danger to anything living. It had been practical to put them in containment with Chris and Vin, but Vin's atomic nature was more forgiving than Chris'; they'd almost lost one of the rats when Chris had touched it, the shock sending it into cardiac arrest. Vin had taken it upon himself then to care for them.

Not for the first time, Buck almost wished the doctors hadn't told the rest of the team that the two men were still alive. Mourning for the dead was painful but, in its way, finite.

Mourning for the living seemed to grow harder every day, complicated by the secrecy and fear surrounding what they now were.

"They'll figure it out. Mary said they were making progress on the rats," he said, meeting Chris' gaze. "You gotta believe that."

Chris said nothing, just took a slow step forward. He reached out, his hand coming to the wall between them, mirroring Buck's.

The clear materials seemed to brighten as he connected, the surface under Buck's hand warming. They couldn't do this for long – Chris couldn't touch these materials for more than a few seconds. Only metals and ceramics seemed impervious to long-term exposure.

"I love you," Buck said, willing it to be enough. "We'll get through this."

Chris didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 4 months, 27.76 days fusion point.

"Gotcha!" Chris murmured, grinning as he clicked the switch, his markers lighting as the sixth one fell into line.

Above the image of the glowing game board, Vin frowned. "Dammit, Chris, how the hell . . ." He sighed, sitting back heavily in his chair. "Don't know why I keep playing this damned game with you. You're as bad as Ezra with a deck of cards."

Chris grinned at him, clicking on the icon that reset the game. "Again?"

Vin snorted. "Yeah, I can't think of much I'd rather do than sit here and get beat again by you. Unless maybe I had a beer, some whiskey, or a pretty lady to distract me."

"Could be worse. We could be betting money," Chris reminded him, leaning back in his chair.

"Ain't like we're spending any," Vin shot back.

But something in the way he said it wasn't just his usual sarcasm. Chris looked at him, trying to see past the glow and the shadows and Vin's reticence. "Vin?" he asked quietly, putting all the worry into the one word.

Vin shook his head, and when he looked up, there was a grin on his face.

But Chris knew the other man well enough to know it was a fake. "You all right?"

Vin made a noise that was supposed to be a laugh. "What the hell could be better? We're getting a nice vacation from the war, in here with no distractions, getting to sit around and play games all day, watch all the video stuff we want, keeping these rats for pets – hell, I been looking for this all my life! Sure, let's play again."

He was looking away from the screen, down at his comm pad, and any other time or place, Chris might not have noticed. But this 'thing' that was wrong with them, this 'condition of irradiation', as the medical reports called it, left all of their fluids shiny and hard to mistake, even in the darkness they were coming to prefer. The slender lines creeping down Vin's face weren't wet, but there was a shimmer, as if a snail had inched over the taut skin of his cheeks.

He'll be better tomorrow, Chris told himself. But even as he made the first move in the game, working for the distraction, he wondered how many times he had told himself that lately.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;  
\+ 5 months, 31.35 days fusion point.

Buck dropped heavily into a chair at the table in the common room, scrubbing at his neck and listening to Ezra bitching about the damage to his uniform. It was bullshit: the tear was minor and could be repaired with little effort, but Ezra was winding up into a truly amusing whine, and all of them could stand it right now.

The mission had been a bust from the start. It was obvious to everyone that the Albies were making headway, winning a little more ground with every attack. The second quadrant was in ruins, the death toll staggering. The fact that their team had gotten away with minor injuries and minor damage to the ship was a tribute to their competence and to a lot of luck.

Josiah was still with the shuttle, helping Casey, their weapons tech, and the engineers repair the damage. JD was still with the shuttle because Casey was with the shuttle. Buck grinned; maybe the boy was finally learning something.

"We got beer?" Nathan asked, coming through the door from his room into the common room. He had already showered, a towel draped around his shoulders that he was using to scrub at his hair.

"No," Ezra snapped back, "we do not have beer. We do, however, have that swill that you inaccurately refer to as 'beer' – and you would think that, in this time of darkness, when we are giving everything we have and more," he gestured toward the rip in his sleeve, "the powers that be in the Administration would have the common decency to provide those of us who are putting our lives on the line with recreational beverages that are at the very least palatable!"

"You'd think," Nathan agreed, pushing Ezra out of the way of the cold unit. "Beer, Buck?"

"Damned straight, Nathan, thanks." He glanced to the common room's terminal, not surprised to see the message light blinking. As usual, Vin had called to check on them; they almost always had a call from him on the i.d. after a mission – no message, he still didn't say much, but a reminder for them to check in and let him know they were all right.

As Nathan put a beer on the table in front of him, Buck hit the 'return' on the message. He nodded his thanks to Nathan, who sat down across from him, as the terminal beeped that it was attempting to connect.

Buck opened his beer and took a sip, then frowned as the familiar 'beep' came again, and there was still no answer. "They weren't doing anything to Vin today, were they?" he asked to the room in general.

Nathan shook his head, and Ezra frowned. "Not that he's mentioned, but then, he rarely mentions anything." He took several steps toward them. "He appears to be napping a lot more as of late."

"Napping?" Nathan asked. "Wonder if that's some new side-effect of the radiation. Chris been sleeping more?" He looked to Buck.

Buck shrugged, frowning as well. "Not that I've noticed. Not that he's said." He took another sip of beer, thinking. As he swallowed, he said, "Chris mentioned something the other day about Vin being less talkative, but I thought he was making a joke of it. Vin don't talk a lot even when he's feeling chatty. But now that you mention it, he is kinda hit-and-miss about answering his calls lately."

Nathan sighed, turning his beer bottle in his fingers. "I don't remember seeing or hearing anything about a medical problem, but I'll check with Mary. The last several times I've talked to him, he's seemed a little less lively than I'm used to. Thought it was just me, but could be he's getting into some depression. It's been, what – five months since the accident?"

"Almost six," Buck answered with no thought. He thought about how long it had been every morning when he got up and Chris wasn't in the bed with him.

They were silent for several minutes, even Ezra making less noise than usual as he moved back into the kitchen-area and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He was the one who finally broke the silence, his voice unusually flat. "Inez informed me recently that Mr. Tanner's lovely paramour has been back in communication with her former husband, Mr. Richmond. It would seem that she's finding her lack of consort to be a trifle disagreeable."

Buck snorted. "I feel her pain. Don't mean I'm looking for someone to replace Chris."

Ezra came back to the table, taking the seat at the head of it. "No, but you are not the type of person who needs someone to validate your self-worth."

Before Buck could comment, Nathan spoke up. "Raine said Charlotte was talking about having kids. Talking about being tired of waiting. That don't sound like someone who's giving Vin a lot of support. Charlotte's apparently stopped visiting him in person, afraid the exposure's gonna affect her ovaries."

Buck took another sip of his beer, feeling decidedly uneasy. "You think she's told Vin?" he asked.

Ezra and Nathan exchanged a quick look, then Ezra said, "It's hardly likely he would share such information with us. He's close-mouthed under the best of circumstances and the current situation is hardly 'best'."

"More likely he'd tell Chris," Nathan said.

Buck nodded, understanding the implied suggestion. "I'll talk to Chris." He chugged back the rest of his beer, then rose as Nathan did.

"I'll try to get to Mary," the medic said, carrying his own beer as he turned toward his door. "This situation gets shittier every day."

"Don't it just," Buck agreed, tossing his beer bottle into the waste box, "like they ain't got it bad enough being trapped up there in a couple of cells." His eyes went to the large window of the common-room suite; across the wide valley, he could just make out the square top of the tallest building in the research complex, built over one of the first quadrant's secondary power stations. Chris and Vin were housed up there, their own little prison built as close to the sky as the engineers could get.

The real irony was that they never got to see it, no windows allowed in their tiny rooms.

The lights came up as soon as he entered the room he and Chris shared, and from habit, he moved straight to the desk and activated the comm system. Chris' i.d. was at the top of the 'connect-panel' and he did exactly that, stripping off his shirt, then sitting down on the bed to take off his boots.

"Didn't realize I'd ordered a floor show," Chris' voice sounded through the room, letting Buck know he had forgotten to turn the speakers down this morning when he'd finished his call to his mother.

He looked up as he pulled off his boots, grinning for the other man. "Been tellin' you it's the way to go, stud. Just get me a bigger monitor, get you one – hell, they have to give you new ones every month anyway, right? Next time just tell 'em you want one of them wall-sized ones!"

"Yeah," Chris said dryly, "so I can see every inch of you. Me, and every other person looking in on the feed. I ain't that fond of the idea of sharing, Buck."

Buck chuckled as he pulled off his second boot, sitting up. "You're too proud for your own good sometimes. And selfish, depriving the world of the beauty of me in all my glory."

Chris rolled his eyes and Buck grinned wider. The conversation about Vin had left him worried, as much about his lover as his friend. Chris and Vin were two of a kind, and right now, whatever happened to one seemed to be happening to the other. So if Chris was still able to laugh, then Vin probably was too.

"How'd it go today?" Chris asked. "From what I've been able to see on the news feeds, it doesn't look good."

Buck sobered. "Albies got us good this time. Took out the power plant in the fourth quadrant. Used suicide dives to take out the shield. Can't tell what they were trying to get to, whether it was to destroy the core or steal it."

"How many?" Chris asked quietly.

Buck shook his head. "They're still trying to figure out what kind of detonation it was. But it took out the plant and most of the countryside around it. If it was old-style nuclear, and the cloud sure looked like it, then there's gonna be fall-out. The containment ships got there as quick as possible and salted it down, but you know how quick nuclear works. Be days before we get a clear idea of the damage. They vented as much of the energy into space as they could, but we're still gonna feel some tickling. Probably tomorrow before we have any idea of the status of the reactor core."

Chris sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. Buck envied that hand right now, and that thought brought him back to Vin. "How are things in there?" he asked. "You talked to Vin today?"

Chris frowned, blinking. His mind was on the war, Buck knew, and the subject change would not go unnoticed.

"Little while this morning. Why? They find more rats for his collection?"

Buck smiled at that. "Don't know yet. Wouldn't be surprised." He saw the wince of distaste on his lover's face; Chris had never been big on critters, other than Buck himself. "Nah, Ez, Nate, and I were just talking 'bout how Vin's gotten kinda hard to reach. He told Ez he was napping a lot and it got us a little worried that something was wrong that nobody knew about."

Chris shook his head. "I'm all right, Buck. Vin has been a little more tired than usual lately."

"Nathan thinks it might be depression," Buck said, testing the waters. "Vin acting all right?"

Chris leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "As compared to what? A man not trapped in a cell with only rats for company?"

It was hard to argue the point, of course.

Chris sighed. "He's all right, as all right as he can be, I reckon. He hasn't said anything but I haven't asked either. I'll check on him. Thanks for letting me know, Buck."

Buck nodded, wishing he could touch Chris. It was getting harder to curb the desire, the need. "Ma said to tell you 'hi'," he said, changing the subject himself this time.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 8 months, 5.34 days fusion point.

"You're – you're not serious," Chris growled, staring at the monitor screen. It was split, one side showing Vin, his long hair hanging limp and tangled, his features sharp and bright despite the darkness of his room, a darkness like Chris' own.

The other side showed the pale features of their primary doctor, Mary Travis, sitting at her cluttered desk. Her hair was pinned on top of her head, but wisps of it had come loose, the white-gold color irritatingly bright.

She frowned, an expression that marred the cold beauty of her face. "I know it's a little invasive – "

"A little?" Vin's voice was brittle with his anger. "It ain't bad enough you got us locked up in here – watching everything we do – everything!" He twisted away from the camera, rising and moving completely out of sight, but Chris had seen his friend's face, seen the anguish.

He felt it too, and embarrassment on top of it. "How in the hell can you know for sure?" he seethed, giving vent to his own frustration. "Ain't like I've been much in the mood, and I don't think Vin has either!"

Mary took a deep breath, and to her credit, she blushed. But her voice was calm. "I'm sorry, I promise you, we wouldn't be having this conversation if . . . if there was any other way."

"Well, that makes me feel fucking wonderful," Vin said snidely. "We could all just go on pretending we don't know you watch us jack off at night – you watch us in the showers too – ain't a place in here where a camera ain't on me!"

Chris heard the thud, knew that Vin had punched the wall. It wasn't reassuring that the other man was as angry and frustrated and desperate as he was. Maybe more. Vin couldn't stand confinement, hated to be inside. The situation was driving him to the edge.

And now this – no privacy, which they'd known, but now, not even the pretense any longer.

"Vin," Mary said softly, "I'm sorry. But this whole thing is as new to us as it is to you. Everything we know, every little bit of information – "

"What can you possibly learn from watching me jack off?" he yelled. "It matter how I touch myself? You gonna come in here in your rubber safety suit and do me?"

Chris winced at the volume, saw Mary do the same before she answered, "Would it help?"

Vin still hadn't come back to his seat, and he didn't answer, just the sound of his harsh breathing telling him he was still in this conversation.

The hell of it, Chris thought, was that it would help, and they all knew it. He was desperate for touch and closeness, at this point. Months of having only the company of visiting friends and the fucking cameras mounted in every corner, covering every angle… he'd learned to ignore them early, but as time wore on, he'd actually come to need them, craving even the illusion of human contact even if it was with anonymous doctors and medics and technicians, scientists and engineers. Even that had come to be better than this all-consuming isolation. The isolation was harder than he would ever have thought. Not just from Buck, though that was the hardest, but from every one. He'd never thought it possible that he could miss the closeness of their crowded shuttle, the smell of male bodies over-ripe from activity, the constant brush of arms and legs and everything.

"So what's the point of this?" he asked, his own anger giving way to the perpetual depression that was the only secret he tried to keep from Buck. "When either of us gets off," he choked on the words, "there's an energy spike – you telling us that's dangerous? We need to stop doing that too?"

From Vin's side there was a sound like a moan, low and short, and another thud of flesh hitting something hard and solid.

Mary had the good grace to blush again, darker this time. "After the, uh, first time, we adjusted the level of the containment field. It's not dangerous, not now."

But it had been. And they had known and not told them.

He hunched forward, his hand over his face. "Then what does it matter now?" he asked, forcing the words through his clenched teeth. "Why are you telling us if it's not a problem?" She'd never struck him as the type to get off on humiliating them – and there had certainly been enough of that during this ordeal.

She sighed, rubbing at her temple before saying, "I know you know what's going on with the war," she started slowly.

He nodded; even locked away in here, they knew things were bad, had thought more than once that maybe he and Vin should be let loose among the Albies, kill as many of them as they could before they were killed. He'd even suggested it a couple of times, but so far, none of their superiors had taken him seriously. Not yet.

Maybe it was time.

But that didn't explain why she had started the conversation with an announcement of the unexpected side-effects of the one thing they could still do to take the edge off aloneness and depression. He wouldn't go so far as to say he enjoyed it any more, unless Buck was around, but it was something. And something was better than nothing, as Buck liked to keep telling him.

"The Albouais have managed to destroy two of the main power plants – all of our power is currently generated by the last two plants, working over-time." This wasn't news, but he knew it wasn't intended to be. She was talking to give herself time. "We don't have enough energy to power most of the satellite weapons – when the Albouais attack, we have to shut down systems everywhere on the planet just to defend ourselves."

The idea came from the back of Chris' mind, dark and ugly.

It was Vin, though, who gave it voice. "So some smart guy came up with the idea to do what – get us to play with ourselves while the fuckers attack so we can power the cannons?" His voice was raw and hard, sounding like Chris felt.

Mary swallowed, not looking at the camera. "Dr. Fowler thinks he's devised a conversion unit and a storage chamber for the energy. It wouldn't have to be during an attack."

"Fowler," Chris said, "the guy with the lab rats." The guy who was responsible for the experiment that had been going on when the reactor blew. The experiment that had made them into radioactive freaks.

Mary sighed again. "He put in a proposal with the High Command, and they accepted it under the War Act. He's in charge of the project now, and he answers directly to the Administration."

Chris stared at her, comprehension coming too fast. "He's your boss now."

"And yours," she murmured, meeting his eyes through the connection.

The silence lasted long enough for the full import to hit Chris. Then Vin was laughing, a soft chuckle that grew louder and faster until it was hysterical.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 8 months, 17.12 days fusion point.

"Well, they keep telling us we gotta give it all for the war effort," Buck grinned at Chris, trying to get him to smile. "And I know you're giving your best, stud."

That worked, got Chris' lips twitching. But he was looking away from the camera, staring at – well, who knew what? Buck knew the decorations in the quarters of the two irradiated men changed regularly, decaying quickly from the energy Chris and Vin put off. "Don't want to pull you into this," he muttered. "Ain't right, making you – "

"Making me have video sex with you?" Buck chuckled then. "Sounds like the best part of this whole deal so far. Next best thing to being there, Chris, getting to see you. Talk to you. Ain't like I been trying for a while now. Just glad that you finally see the light, even if it has taken orders from those guys upstairs to make you come to your senses."

"And how many of those guys upstairs are getting this show, too?" Chris asked, but there was no anger in it, which was more worrisome than if there had been.

"Mary promised it'd be just us," he soothed, unconsciously touching the monitor where Chris' forehead was creased in a frown. "No taps, no hackers, just us. You and me."

Chris looked back at him, drawing a slow deep breath. "Could be worse," he said, trying to smile. "More 'n what Vin's got."

Buck didn't want to think about Vin right now; Mary'd increased the level of his anti-depressants, but it hadn't been enough. They'd barely gotten suited up and into the room fast enough to stop the bleeding after he'd slashed the length of his forearms with a piece of broken plate. For now, he was sedated, and restrained, chained to his own bed with short lengths of metal cord. Buck knew Chris was hurting as much as the rest of the team, all of them stunned. Vin was the most accepting of them all. If he was that close to the edge, Chris wasn't far behind.

"He's gonna be all right," Buck said quietly, wishing he had paid more attention to Nathan's worries about Vin's depression. Wishing he had pushed Chris just a little harder to talk to Vin, gone just a few more times into the antechamber beside Chris'.

"Wish I could touch you," Chris whispered. "Just one more time."

Buck's breath caught, his throat tightening. "Stop it," he grunted out, "it's gonna happen. Just gotta be patient, Chris." He tried to smile himself, but the knot in his throat grew bigger. "Lost you once, ain't gonna do it again."

He hadn't meant to say it out loud, hadn't meant to ever put that guilt on his lover, and he wanted to pull the words back the second they were gone.

Oddly though, they seemed to help. Chris blinked, the desolation in his eyes fading as the words struck home. Buck knew he was thinking of his own loss, Sarah and Adam, taken in an Albie attack almost four years gone.

The strong chin came up just a little, green eyes flaring in the dimness of the room. "Just the two of us, huh?" Chris said, and Buck saw the resolution he had come to love.

He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. "Next best thing to being there," he said, but he let his hands fall to the hem of his undershirt, his uniform shirt taken off as soon as he was off-duty.

It was almost a physical sensation, the weight of Chris' eyes on him, and his nipples tightened before the shirt had hit the floor. His grin was more sincere now, as was the flush of blood to his groin – he'd always loved the way Chris watched him, and even though this was far from what they used to do, it was better than anything they'd done in so long that he was feeling like a teenaged boy again.

Chris' gaze was slow and sensual, his smile more sincere now too. "You look better than ever," he said, his voice a rumble. "Step back a little so I can see – yeah, that's it."

He knew what Chris was looking for and he gave it, not embarrassed one bit. He let his hands tease over his chest, one hand pinching at the brown nubs, the other easing through the swirls of soft brown hair on his chest and belly, the hair Chris loved to pet and pull. The team was still active – just five of them now, each working a little harder to make up for the shortages – so he was in pretty good shape. The shape Chris loved.

He saw it then, the first sign of interest. The tip of Chris' tongue slipped out, tracing a quick path across his lower lip.

Buck let his right hand drift lower, one finger tracing around his belly button, dipping gently in and out.

Chris breath caught, the absence of the sound of it making Buck realize it had been there to start with.

"Hey," he said softly, not stopping his own actions, "don't I get to see something too?" Not that he needed it, really. Just having Chris watch him with those eyes was getting him there fast, but this was… he hated to think of it like this, but it was a mission too. Not just something for them, but a fucking military operation. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

Chris blinked before he was able to draw his eyes back up to meet Buck's. "Wha – oh."

Buck chuckled, but only for a second – until he caught sight of the other man's bare chest. It was almost as he remembered it – broad and hard, long muscles that cut all the way past his waistband, round nipples, larger than Buck's own, but not quite as responsive to touch.

There were differences now though; there had been a trail of golden hair down his sternum and below his belly button, not a swath like Buck's own, but enough to tempt. It was gone now, removed when he'd first been pulled from the reactor room, when the doctors had been doing everything they could to keep them alive. They hadn't known until too late that what was taken wasn't going to grow back – not fast, anyway. So far, Chris had only lost the hair on his chest. With this last little incident, they'd had to use the veins in Vin's groin for the blood transfusion. Buck didn't think that was going to help Vin's mood much when he found out he'd lost yet more of himself.

Chris had lost weight too, moving past slender to skinny, and his muscles were more defined – nothing to do in here but exercise and watch the monitors and their endless babble.

The biggest difference though, the one Buck tried not to react to, was the golden shimmer that rippled in his skin – not on it, but literally in it. With every shift of his muscles, gold seemed to flash and spark, tiny but brilliant explosions that made it seem as though he glittered. Buck tried not to stare, but it was mesmerizing.

Even when he was unmoving, his arms at his sides, he sparkled. Buck wondered if Chris felt the tiny explosions, if they tickled or hurt or shivered, if they would be hot to the touch, like flame or pulses of air or –

"Buck?" The arms moved then, crossing over Chris' chest, and Buck forced his eyes up.

He'd rarely seen Chris nervous, not even the first time they'd made love. Of course, they'd been a little drunk then – not too much, but enough to take some of the edge off their nerves.

Chris didn't have alcohol now – he didn't have anything that would play with the delicate balance of his body. Not even spicy food or sweets – another thing that lowered the quality of their lives.

"You're beautiful," he heard someone say with his voice.

When Chris blushed, the little flares of color were pink. "Dammit," he muttered, moving, bending out of sight of the camera.

"No, Chris – please," Buck called, getting his head back together. "I didn't mean anything. Or I did, but just what I always do. You've always been so fine."

Chris hesitated, only his side and part of his back visible as he held the stretch. Buck tried not to look at the way the shimmering was striating with his tension, faster and brighter. He could only imagine how he lit up when he exercised.

Or when he came . . .

Nathan said Vin's blood had glowed. He wondered if Chris' come would.

"Can't do nothing about the way I look," Chris said quietly. "Part of why they keep it so dark in here – we light the place up. Still makes it hard to go to sleep at night. If there was a night – with no windows, we don't have that either."

"You look – Chris, don't worry about it. It don't bother me. Hell, makes you all the more hot." He meant it, too. Right now, he wanted to run his tongue over that skin, feel those little explosions against his mouth, his own flesh, taste the heat.

Chris slowly levered himself back up, and Buck noticed for the first time that even his nipples sparkled. With the darker skin there, it was harder to tell.

"You sure?" Chris said softly. "I understand if I'm too freaky – "

"You're the same man you were when I fell in love with you," Buck said. "Same man you'll be when we get you out of there." Then he said what he'd thought just a moment ago. "All that light, it just makes me want to taste it, see if you taste like the sun, Chris. See if your skin dances when I lick you, if it's like before or if it's…" he trailed off. "Different" didn't seem like a word Chris would want to hear. "Better," he added out loud.

He wasn't really surprised when Chris didn't answer him, but he was pleased that the other man was staring at him again, the hunger clear on his face.

He let his hands move, drifting over himself, touching. He'd done it enough lately, when he had the energy.

"Show me," he heard Chris murmur, "back up and show me, Buck."

It was their catch-phrase, the cue Chris had always used when he wanted Buck to strip for him. Buck's cock firmed up, not completely there, but close.

"Missed this," he whispered as he slipped a hand over the opening to his pants, pulling it apart. He had; foreplay with Chris had always involved a certain amount of watching, on both their parts. And he knew Chris knew he missed it, from the times he'd tried to suggest it to Chris before. Knew why Chris had refused then and was annoyed that the only reason Chris was agreeing now was because of the war going on over their heads. He shook his head, trying to shake out the thought. Chris was an intensely private man, always had been, and loving Buck hadn't changed that part of him much.

It took both hands to pry the cloth over his hips, but it was a relief when it fell to the floor. He was already barefoot, so stepping out of them took no effort.

Chris' hunger was clearly visible now, his tongue on his lips, his own hands at his groin. "Back up," Chris said, his voice raspy. "Want to see all of you."

He took a step back, then another, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. They would need more cameras, he thought, and bigger monitors. He wanted to see all of Chris too. He wondered if he could get JD to install them for him without asking too many questions.

Wondered if he could get his boss to pay for them . . .

Chris' low moan drew his attention to the man's face – flushed now and a little sweaty, glowing almost. His lips were wet and swollen – everything Buck had hoarded in his memory.

He wasn't aware of stroking himself, but the pressure in his groin was growing. "Your turn," he said – or tried to. The words were a little unclear, but Chris went to work on the opening to his pants.

Chris was as sexy as he had ever been – his hips sharp, his thighs tight, his erection slender and long, dropping iridescent strands that glittered oddly silver.

Silver and gold. Glowing and sparkling. Green eyes burning dark and brilliant, more intense than Buck had ever seen.

Long fingers closed around his shaft, pulling lightly, and Buck found himself feeling it – because he was doing the same. There were no words, just the practiced rhythm, each of them watching the other. Their hands moved in sync, base to tip, skin slick with sweat and their own fluids. Buck fumbled at his balls, saw Chris mirror his motion, thought about touching Chris, the smell of him, the soft noises he was making, little grunts of need, the salty taste of him, heavy and thick on his tongue –

It'd been a while since his orgasm had been this shattering – been a while since he'd been with Chris. It overwhelmed him, erupting from deep within his groin and his psyche, dulling out everything but physical pleasure and his love for Chris.

He was on the bed, he noted as his senses returned, the backs of his legs burning a little from slamming against the metal frame, his butt and shoulders burning a little from sliding over the top sheet. Blinking, he found the monitor screen blank, but the sound of ragged gasps still carried over the audio.

"Chris?" he called, struggling to get his elbows under him. Without thinking, he wiped his hand on the sheets, then pushed up to sit, worried at the monitor's continued blankness. Had something happened – the administration's whole point of this was the energy – Buck had had far more personal reasons for agreeing though. "Chris?"

"Yeah," his lover said weakly, then, "yeah, I'm good. Just gimme . . . " His breathing was ragged but settling, and the grey screen slowly filled in, tiny colored dots appearing to form splotches of image.

After several seconds, the screen resolved. Chris wasn't readily visible, and Buck leaned forward, searching the frame, until movement caught his eye.

Chris drifted in from the side, unsteady, his belly streaked in silver strands – but his skin less golden and bright.

"You all right?" Buck asked, worry catching in his belly. "You look . . . "

"More normal?" Chris finished, but he dropped into a chair so that only his face and shoulders were visible. "Yeah, it's what happens after I – after." He looked away from the camera, one hand pushing his bangs back on his head. "Right after . . . well, it's as close to being normal as we get, at the moment anyway. Wonder how much they got this time. It's been a while since I . . . "

He paused, swallowed, and Buck knew the joy was fading. "Me too," he said, leaning in closer to his own camera. "Miss being with you. This was . . . this was good, Chris. Real good."

Chris was still for a space before turning to face him. "Yeah, it was," he agreed. Then, sadly, he smiled. "Fucked up that it was so good. Wish Vin – " He caught himself, and Buck looked away.

Quietly, he said, "Ezra told us several months ago. No one. . . we didn't know how to tell him, figured Charlotte would eventually get around to it. Hell, I kept hoping maybe she was trying to find a way to let him down easy, or just biding her time 'til he got out."

Chris snorted. "Ain't no way to let a man down easy, Buck, you know that. But finding out – he was already upset at this whole thing. You know how private he is. Sitting there in a conference call with Mary, trying to explain that they wanted Charlotte to do what – well, what we just did . . . that ain't no time to find out that the woman you're planning to marry is cheating on you, hell, dumping you."

"Chris." He said it soft, hoping to cut off the growing anger. "It ain't easy on this side either. I know you don't want to hear it, hell, I know you're right. We should have told him – "

"Damn straight you should have!" Chris hand hit the table, but it wasn't with any real force. "Any one of you could have told me, and I could have told him. Why didn't you, Buck? You taken up with one of your old girlfriends? You and Charlotte got something going on on the side – "

"Goddammit!" He stood, trembling with the anger and the frustration, and the post-release lethargy. "When the hell would I have time?" he snarled back. "Between fighting off the fucking Albouais, trying to stay alive, and spending every free minute I got trying to keep you sane, when the fuck do I have time to give to anyone else? I ain't got time to sleep now, Chris!"

Chris stared at him, his face showing a sort of shock, and Buck hated himself. He'd never meant to tell Chris this, never meant for him to know how hard it really was on him, on the team.

They'd just had sex together, at least more 'together' than they'd been able to in almost a year. And now they were fighting, tearing each other apart because Vin was hurt, they were all scared, and this was going on too long.

Because they'd just had sex together and they couldn't touch.

"I didn't mean that," he breathed, wishing he were in the damned plastic room so he could at least see Chris eye to eye. "I'm just tired. We're all tired."

"How bad is it?" Chris asked.

Buck scrubbed a hand through his hair, tired. "We're handling it," he answered, looking around for his clothes. "Ain't nothing for you to worry about – "

"Buck."

He didn't want to look into those eyes, even if they were, for the first time since the 'accident', the real eyes of the man he loved. He searched around until he found his pants, but he didn't hurry to pull them on. "We're holding our own, still the best team out there. You've seen the reports, you know what we're doing."

"I know what goes in those reports ain't all of what's going on in the field. Tell me."

Buck stood to fasten the pants, then looked around for a shirt. They were in the dresser, far enough away. "I just did," he answered. "We're holding our own. You know, this ain't the kinda afterglow I was hoping for, lead dog, so let's just cut to it: I ain't cheating on you, don't want to and yeah, things are so fucked up I wouldn't have time to even if I did. Which, believe it or not, I don't. We were all wrong not to tell Vin, and we know that now. Hell, the boys are as shook up as you and me. If any one of us had thought it'd be that way . . . "

Chris sighed, the sound drifting through the room. "I understand that," he finally agreed. "I just . . . I guess I've been so locked up in here that I've forgotten what it's like out there. We don't . . . we don't get anything but what they let us have."

Something caught in his voice, and no will of his own could stop Buck from walking back to face that monitor.

"They let us have this," he said, pulling at the desk chair and settling into it. "They let us have each other, or as close to it as we can get right now. And it's gonna get better, Chris, Mary's got some ideas, her people are working hard on this. They want to help you and Vin."

Chris was looking down, his hair hiding his face. "I know," he said, but the words were empty.

Buck leaned in closer. "Don't you go thinking like Vin, you hear me? I ain't losing you to this, Chris, I ain't looking for nobody else, don't want nobody else." Probably never had, but that was a different argument, not for now. "We'll get through this. It's just a matter of time."

Chris didn't move, even his hair still, as if the image were a photograph.

"Chris, you hear me?" He heard the edge of desperation in his own voice. "Don't you give up on me."

"All right," Chris said, cutting him off. His head tilted, strands of blond shifting in the dim light. "Might be better for you if you went on, Buck. You could have someone with you instead of – of – this, you could have what you deserve."

"I'm the only one who can say what I deserve," Buck said flatly. "And what I don't deserve is you acting like what we got ain't worth holding onto. I know you hate this. I do too. We all do. But it's way too damned early for you to be giving up, too damned early for Vin, too. I'll take part of the blame for Vin. We should have played straight with him about it. But I am playing straight with you, Chris. I'm waiting this out and I'd be damned thankful if you'd do me the favor of doing the same."

He'd worked to keep the anger out of his voice; the words were harsh enough. Under other circumstances, he might have given in to it, yelled a little, thrown a few things, slammed a door or two. But under other circumstances, he and Chris could have fucked each other senseless afterwards, the make-up sex as physical as the fight.

There was no make-up sex now, only the weight of Vin's hurt hanging over them, between them, almost as solid as the walls.

"Yeah," Chris whispered finally, looking up. "I'll try."

"Can't ask for much more," Buck smiled, noticing the faint glow behind the green. Recharging, he thought, hating the word. "Now, how 'bout we talk about next time we do this?"

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 9 months, 12.06 days fusion point.

Vin kept his eyes closed, wishing, for once, that he had a blindfold.

Not because he was afraid of what they were going to do; at this point, it hardly mattered. Only the drugs Mary kept pumping into his system kept the darkness at bay, that and sleep. As long as there were no dreams, so that he didn't have to see, again, the horror on Charlotte's face when Mary had told her what they were doing. Why they were doing it.

Then Charlotte had finally spoken, saying that Will would never allow it.

They'd brought in an expert, of course, another brilliant thinker to 'help him deal with this'. Another person to probe into him, pry out information that wasn't any of their damned business. This one, Dr. Greer, was a pretty woman with long hair and a sweet smile who wanted him to know that there were other women out there, that what had happened with Charlotte was painful but not worth dying over.

She didn't understand – they didn't understand. It wasn't about Charlotte, not the way they thought. Hell, yes, it'd hurt. They'd had plans - wedding, kids, little house in the jungles of the fourth quadrant, down near the wild rivers. He'd never felt about anyone the way he had about her, had even been thinking about giving up the service. Giving up Chris and the boys, because she was scared of him getting killed and leaving her alone. That should have been a clue, he knew now, he should have realized that she'd never manage this separation. Should have seen it coming.

Yeah, it hurt. But it wasn't all of it. Not even finding out she'd lied to him, that she'd been back with Will, the bastard, had been enough, not on its own. But that was the hell of it. It was the whole damned thing.

"It shouldn't hurt, Vin," Mary's voice carried over the intercom into the chamber, sweet and amused. "Don't worry."

He wasn't worried about that either.

He just didn't want to see them, didn't want to see the people moving around him, big orange robots, dark against the shiny metal and white instruments and machines. Didn't want to be reminded that just lying here on this table, his arms still wrapped in gauze and bandages, he was a threat to them.

"Vin?" More insistent this time, demanding that he respond. "You all right?"

He dredged up the energy, still keeping his eyes closed. "Yeah," he said. "Fine."

The procedure didn't take long, and she was right, there was no pain. There was discomfort though, a sort of low-level grating like things rubbing against each other that shouldn't be, only deep inside. It was irritating, almost as much so as the confinement of the machine he was in – a reactor, he knew and tried desperately not to think about.

Had he been less drugged, he might have panicked. As it was, he didn't give a damn.

The clicking of the wheels on the rolling bed, the coolness of moving air let him know that he was being moved again, from the reactor, back into 'the coffin' as he and Chris had dubbed it. The heavy and energized box they put them in to transport them from their quarters to the lab, on the occasions when they had to be moved. 'Hazardous materials' was stamped across it in big orange letters, and it required a security code to open.

He hated the damned thing. The first time they'd used it, he'd hyper-ventilated, waking up with an oxygen mask and an arm full of sedatives.

If they'd been able to bring the reactor to him, they would have. They tried to move the two men as little as possible, trying to minimize the danger to others.

"We'll be home soon," Mary's voice called gaily through the ever-present audio system into 'the coffin'.

Home. The bigger coffin.

He wondered what it would be like to suffocate.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 9 months, 35.06 days fusion point.

"We can store the energy for a week to ten days," Fowler said, looking at Chris. "But we need as much as you can produce." He pressed a button on his computer. "This should be to your e-mail – now."

Chris tried to unclench his jaw, but the tension had locked it.

"Those are the priorities to which it's been allocated – Dr. Travis and Dr. Greer thought it would make it more presentable for you to know that you're doing it for specific things." His face was unreadable, as if he were handing over a budget analysis or a report on weapons' allocation.

Chris looked up at him, his palms itching. He wanted to hit this man, this bastard who sat there, presuming to dictate to him.

The only good part of this was that Vin wasn't in on this conversation. He was having the fourth treatment, not the last one, but the one Mary felt was pivotal. They'd know after this one if they could change his ionization. If he could, at least, be in the same cage with Chris.

"You want more, Fowler?" he asked. More of him jerking off typically meant more of Buck, so it wasn't like he'd been complaining, but Fowler acted like they'd had to torture him to gain his cooperation. And it was its own kind of torture, better and worse with Buck there—better, because he missed Buck more than he was willing to say; Buck came here every hour he wasn't working, which was too few and told him more than anything how badly things were going outside. Better because sex with Buck even when all they could do was look at each other was closer to the man than he'd been in almost a year now. Worse because it was as close as they could get in the foreseeable future—he'd given up listening to Dr. Travis's hopeful reports on their efforts to fix him and Vin—and it wasn't close enough. Not even close to close enough. "Is that the point of this little chat? You're telling me I have to whore myself more for you?"

He had the pleasure of seeing Fowler flinch, the muscles of his face fighting not to sneer. "Seems a bit rude, even for you, Chris – you don't mind if I call you that, do you? Given the nature of this 'chat', as you call it, seems we can be a little more personal, don't you think?"

"I don't know, Cletus – you planning to come in here and give me a hand?" He smiled, hoping it was as cold as he wanted it to be. "That'd make it a lot more personal."

Fowler's eyes narrowed and he sat forward at his neatly ordered desk. "This isn't open for negotiation, Major Larabee," he snapped. "We need that energy. Until Lieutenant Tanner is able or willing to cooperate, you're going to give it to us. We're at war – and you're a soldier. You do what you have to do."

Chris leaned forward, looking directly into the lens of the camera. "I'm a soldier, Fowler – not a slave for your amusement or anyone else's."

Fowler's face tightened, his jaw now the one clenched. "You think I find this amusing? I don't, nor do I get off on it. But we don't have any choice. You and your teammate are the only sources we have for extra power, and I'll do what I have to do to get that. I would hope you would understand the need for this sacrifice. I'm certain Captain Wilmington does."

"That ain't none of your concern," he snarled. "And if I understand what you want, you need Buck as much as you need me."

Fowler grimaced. "What I need is for you to get Tanner engaged in this plan. Do you have any idea what it costs us to keep the two of you safe in here?"

Chris snorted. "That the best you got? In case you haven't heard, Vin tried to cut your expenses, and I'm not certain he's changed his mind on that plan."

He expected the other man to respond as he had so far, so it was disconcerting when he looked away. "I'm not working in a vacuum," Fowler answered, but his tone wasn't as sharp. "I've been briefed extensively on his state of mind, and yours. That's why I'm talking to you and not him. I didn't think you'd appreciate this coming from one of the women, and I know for damned sure he wouldn't."

"I'd have preferred it, actually. Cletus, there ain't many people I'd rather hear from less than you." Fowler, for all his words, had that air of a sick voyeur about him, not with the sex but with him and Vin completely. They were his lab rats and they both knew it.

Fowler leaned back again, exhaling long and slow. "I'm not dancing around this, Larabee. You've got something we need, and we need it badly. I can find ways to apply pressure if need be – I've got orders from the highest levels to get results any way I have to. Obviously," he said dryly, "these orders come from people who have never had the displeasure of trying to work with you. I'm trying the direct approach, Major, but I assure you if that doesn't work, other methods will be applied."

Chris felt a chill at that; there weren't that many things left in his world that these people could take away from him. But there was one, and anyone who knew him knew what that one thing was. One person. One fucking lifeline to the outside universe. "You'd better not be threatening me, Cletus," he warned, trying to keep a grip on his rage.

"I'm not," Fowler answered, his voice flat. "Not that I wouldn't, but I prefer to get results. And we need them. We need to double the output. Either you can do it alone, or you can get your friend on board. Dr. Travis has been authorized to supply you with whatever drugs or . . . accessories you might want. You have access to Captain Wilmington, Tanner can have whatever stimulation he wishes to watch as well, recorded preferably, as there are security issues." He paused as Chris found himself speechless at the ultimatum. "The Albouais are coming back soon for an all-out invasion. We know this. If we have enough power stored up, we can surprise them with full-weapons fire, maybe finish this fight once and for all. We only have one place to get that kind of energy, Larabee, so it really is a matter of life or death."

"Yeah, Cletus, I know what's at stake."

"Do you, really? I can appreciate how your containment chafes, but it's also an insulator of sorts. We've lost thirteen million people, almost five million alone with the attack on the reactor in the fourth quadrant, from nuclear fallout, and most of them civilians. That's two percent of our population in less than a year. We've lost whole cities, infrastructure damage we'll be recovering from for decades. And that's if we recover. If the Albouais don't win. And right now, they're still winning. Do you understand, truly, the magnitude of all that? Understand why I've grown sick of your complaints? Measure that damage and the risk of our extinction against your own discomfort before you start accusing me."

Chris felt his legs jerk under the table, out of Fowler's view; he'd learned in almost a year now, so that even his body had adjusted its reactions, tried to protect itself. "I know all that," he forced out. But he hadn't, not really. Thirteen million people. Whole cities. Even though he got the public newscasts, somehow the fact that there were public newscasts had lulled him into thinking it wasn't as bad as it was. Even though Buck told him, answered any questions he asked, he couldn't say he'd summed it all up, taken in the extent of what was happening. He was insulated in here, unable to fight out there, unable to do anything.

Except what Fowler was pressuring him to do. "We're on the same team, Cletus," he said tiredly. "Try not to keep making me forget that."

"So we can expect your cooperation?"

"Yes, god damn it! But leave Vin out of this. If he can't, he can't, and you've already taken away more than he can stand to have lost."

"Thank you," Fowler said stiffly. "And as much as I may dislike you personally, I do mean that." He cut the connection.

Chris' anger rolled through different stages: fury at his helplessness, at this whole situation, white-hot at Vin for his uselessness, and for leaving him in the position of having to deal with this, flaming at Mary for not finding a cure, but mostly cold iciness at Fowler, a shard of hate freezing into a promise of murder. Reason told him that the man's idea probably was the only viable one under the circumstances, but that did little to assuage the injustice and general immorality of the situation.

The anger was still there, a short while later when Buck checked in, his forced smile fading fast.

"You talked to Vin?" He heard the worry in Buck's voice, and that pissed him off as well.

"Fuck no, I haven't talked to Vin! What am I gonna say – 'oh, Vin, sorry about the suicide, but are you feeling good enough to jerk off yet?' You think I'm crazy?" Buck did, and Chris knew he did, but his lover had enough sense not to voice that. Instead, in true Buck Wilmington style, the man grinned.

"Lightin' up a whole weapons array, huh. Damn, Chris, we'll just wear that thing out!"

It wasn't funny, not the least little bit. But at the look on Buck's face, the twinkle in his deep blue eyes, something in Chris eased just a little.

Trust Buck to understand.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 10 months, 21.06 days fusion point.

"Now, as we discussed, slow and easy," Mary's voice called through the speakers. "No need to have a problem we can prevent, right, guys?"

Vin sighed, heard Chris do the same. It wasn't like they hadn't been over this at least ten times this morning. It wasn't like he didn't remember the last time he'd touched Chris – the last time he'd touched anyone. It'd gotten to the point that he was walking around holding one of the rats almost constantly, just to feel something alive. He'd actually cried when they'd told him that Peso, the last one they had used for testing this procedure, wouldn't be coming back. He was down to two now, Eddie and Bob.

For their sakes alone, this had to work.

Vin just wanted this over with. If it worked he and Chris could be in the same room. That in itself wasn't as big a deal to him, even though he did have some hopes for it, as the idea that if it worked, they had managed to change some of the effects of the radiation. If it worked, it was proof that they might yet get out of this prison, back to some sort of real life.

He didn't want to hope, was steadfastly trying not to even think along those lines.

So instead, he concentrated on not letting Mary's nervousness, covered in an array of platitudes and fake cheerfulness, annoy him any more than usual. It could be worse; Dr. Greer could be the one talking. That woman knew more clichés than Ezra.

"Vin?" This time, the voice was Chris', and it got his wandering attention.

"Yeah," he said, standing a little straighter. One arm was itching and he had already touched it before he caught himself. No scratching. The healing was almost done, just pink lines now on his skin, covered in some places with bandages still, the tissue sensitive to touch.

"You with us?"

Vin felt a brief touch of amusement; Chris was as tired of this as he was. "Yeah," he said again.

"You ever gonna be your disagreeable self again?" the other man asked, and even though there was a hint of annoyance in it, there was still the humor.

This time, he did smile. "Yeah," he said.

Chris' snort was mixed with the sound of the door to the other man's quarters sliding open. Vin knew it was more than the physical doors and walls themselves; while they had been housed on the same floor, there had been containment shields dividing them. They had taken those down first – not the ones around the top of the building, but between the halves of this floor. Next had come the blast doors between the metal and concrete walls, then the door out of Vin's half. Now, he was watching the last slender metal door between them slide open.

He didn't move, waiting for the word from Mary, who was with the team monitoring – everything. The air, the temperature, the pressure to the containment field, the pressure on the walls, the balance of light to darkness, and mostly, the scale of radiation.

And them as well, via the various implants and chips that had been stuck into their skin. He tried not to think about those, either, but that was a little harder.

He let his eyes wander around the darkened room before him, not surprised to find it exactly like his own – small, mostly empty, furniture with few cushions, bare floor, metal statuary for what few decorations there were. One lamp, darkened at present, sat near a recliner and the table beside it held a book – just one, they were allowed one at a time for a day or so. Longer, and the pages wore away.

The feeling came along very slowly, a faint tickle along his skin. Before he had a chance to comment, Mary said, "There's still a little difference in your ionizations. You're probably both feeling it now, sort of a static charge. I'm not showing any other physiological reactions – you two feel anything else?"

"No," Chris answered, "just a little bored."

Vin found himself agreeing with a grin.

It was another fifteen minutes or so, during which Vin really was feeling bored, before the door on the far end of the room slid open and he and Chris were actually looking at each other.

They stared as they had the first time they'd met, each feeling relief, reassurance, and the strange underpinning of trust that had been strong between them from the start.

Chris spoke first, a slight curve in his lips.

"You're brighter in person," he said, and Vin noticed the way the green of his eyes cut through the darkness, sharper in person than on the monitor.

"Ain't alone," he answered, finding the words easy. "You ain't hidin' in the dark yourself."

Chris grinned then, and the aura around him seemed to extend just a little farther.

"All right," Mary's voice called, her excitement rising, "each of you take a couple of steps forward, about five."

Vin drew a deep breath, but his annoyance tempered by the way Chris rolled his eyes. Without a word, they each took five steps forward in synch.

"Good," she called, "now stay there."

Chris shook his head, but again his eyes caught Vin's. "Hurry up and wait," he murmured, and Vin realized they were close enough to hear each other easily.

Close enough for Chris to look to one side, catching sight of the bandages and staring before looking back up.

Vin knew those thoughts as well, and he shook his head. "Not your fault," he murmured.

"Yours either," Chris countered, just as softly. "Don't do it again."

Vin stiffened. "Ain't your concern," he said flatly.

Chris straightened a little, but instead of snapping back, as Vin expected, he said, "It's only the two of us, Vin. It is my concern. We got in this mess together – I'd prefer we get out of it that way too."

There wasn't much way to misunderstand what Chris was saying; they'd known each other too long. He frowned, surprised but also a little angry. "Don't reckon Buck'd be too happy to hear that suggestion."

Chris never looked away. "Might be the best thing for him. 'Spect you had thoughts of that nature before you found out about – all of it."

'All of it'. He shook his head at the irony, the ends of his hair dragging over his shoulders. "Yeah, reckon I did. Guess that's why it weren't no real leap. Wasn't really 'bout her, you know."

Chris nodded once. "Reckon I do. Ain't never that simple. Buck . . . "

Vin nodded, knowing.

Before he could say anything, Mary called out, "Okay, things are looking great, no elevations. How are you guys feeling? Any thing going on that feels off or wrong?"

"Little tingly," Chris said, and Vin nodded his agreement. "Not bad though."

"Everything's safe so far," she said, "containment field is at maximum and showing no stress, so why don't you guys step a little closer, and let's make sure we're safe. Two steps should put you close enough."

Vin sighed, Chris laughed, they looked at each other and did exactly what she wanted. Taking two steps forward put them right at each other, and with no hesitation, they reached out their right hands, clasping each other just above the wrist.

Vin had expected the blast again, his memories of the reactor room hazy but stark about one thing: the blast that had happened when he touched Chris. He didn't care now though. If they went out, they went out together.

Mary gasped, someone called for them to stop, but it was all in the background and it was all moot. When they connected, there was a sort of shock, but it was mild and steady, flowing between them like water in a fast-moving stream. It was different, different and warm and sweet as the first time he'd kissed a girl or fired a five-light laser weapon or- or met Chris. He had a couple of unusual sensations, a sense of exhilaration as if nothing could go wrong, and a low thrum in his belly, sort of like arousal but not.

No explosions, no life-threatening alternate ions. They were okay.

He grinned and Chris grinned back. Neither of them rushed to break the contact; it was the first skin-to-skin touch in almost a year for either one of them and that alone felt damned good. He had an impulse to touch Chris' face, or grab his other arm or hand.

Chris must've felt it too because they were connected at a second point, Chris' hand at Vin's neck, his fingers strong and warm as they curled around his flesh.

Vin heard Mary as she did something rare. "Dammit, you two! You scared the life out of us! What are you two thinking?"

"Is it fluctuating?" Chris called, but his eyes never left Vin's, so close that Vin could see the gold flaring deep within.

"Not enough to matter," she answered after a second. "Your physical temperatures are and your blood pressures are higher, more rapid breathing – "

"But there's no danger?" Chris interrupted and Vin almost laughed at the annoyance in his voice. Some things would, thankfully, never change.

"Not that we've seen," she answered and there was a sort of wonder in her voice that did leave Vin to chuckle.

"One step closer," Chris said, and Vin nodded, thinking that he meant one step closer to a cure.

But Chris physically took one step closer, drawing Vin into a full-body hug.

There was a little more of a shock to this contact, even with the layers of cloth between them. But no sparking and no explosion. Just more of the warmth and deep-seated satisfaction that edged so close to the sexual, Vin had to suck in a breath.

Chris' arm was tight and hard against his shoulder blades, his chest wide and solid against Vin's.

Human, so very human.

He'd never had many people close to him, but until he'd been exiled, he'd never realized how much he needed even the small amount. Maybe before Charlotte he could have stood it better, but the year they'd been together had spoiled him, made him aware of how much he loved to touch and be touched.

Now, even being with Chris felt good, made him happy. Too happy; his throat was closing, his eyes filling.

"Careful now," he said, the words choked. "I ain't Buck."

Chris laughed, rich and wonderful. "No, you ain't."

They broke then, Chris drawing away but his hand slapping hard on Vin's back. There was a slight pop, not so much a sound as a feeling just under Vin's skin, and Mary called out, "Spike!"

But the energy rush didn't affect the containment and they both grinned.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 12 months, 21.41 days fusion point.

Buck dropped back into the pillows, brushing at the sweat on his forehead. His lower back ached a little and his exhaustion was making it an effort to find release. He'd have to get more of those pills from Mary, the ones that made his body forget it was too tired. It had pained him some to have to resort to those, but difficult times called for extreme measures.

He'd have laughed at the irony of it if he'd had the energy. Instead, he forced himself to look at the monitor, watching the white-out fade to form. Chris was breathing heavy but slower, the aura of light around him dissipating slowly.

This was the part Buck liked best, watching his lover literally bask in the afterglow. He almost laughed as he thought the words, but caught himself. Chris still didn't have much of a sense of humor about it.

But he was beautiful, gold and green and shimmering ivory.

"Stop staring," Chris rasped out, finally coming around.

"Can't help it," he shot back. "You are something."

Chris smiled, pushing himself up to his elbows. He'd trimmed back his hair, too short, Buck thought, so that it didn't hide his eyes. "Well, guess it's good I got something to offer."

Buck ignored the comment, as he ignored so many of them these days. Chris was getting better; having Vin in there seemed to be doing some good. But at another level, it was also spreading Vin's depression – good for Vin, bad for Chris.

Annoying for Buck.

"You talk to Vin about sharing in this fun?" Buck asked.

Chris arched an eyebrow. "You ain't his type."

"Now you know that ain't what I meant," Buck grinned, stretching an arm to the floor to pick up the underclothes he'd just discarded. "Just thought he might be getting more . . . relaxed now that the two of you are getting to be more sociable."

Chris sighed, scratching at his belly. "He's better, but he's still skittish. He don't take well to questions 'bout his private life. Greer pissed him off good yesterday, asking him if he has any fantasies. Apparently, she didn't want to hear that his biggest fantasy was getting out of here. He didn't want to talk to her about sex."

Buck frowned, wiping himself off with his undershorts. "Boy ain't gotta lick of sense – have you looked at Terry? And she ain't involved with no one, 'cept that pretty little girl of hers, Miss Olivia."

He tossed the soiled cloth back onto the floor, resting back in his pillows. It was then that he saw the storm gathering in Chris' eyes.

"Whoa, Chris," he held up one hand, hoping to forestall the temper, "I only know 'cause I been talking to her when I see her. She works late nights here, and sometimes I catch up to her in the elevator, that's all. Ain't nothing for you to go getting yourself in a twist about."

Chris glared, his brows knit close, but his jaw didn't lock. "You got something else you need to be telling me? I don't wanna find out anything like Vin did – "

"There's nothing for you to find out," Buck cut him off. "And if you're to the point of doubting me about this and asking me every damned time we're together –"

"Sorry," Chris held up a hand, looking away. "I've been talking to Vin too much. Seems to help him, but makes me a little . . . "

"Crazy?" Buck offered, but he grinned. "Don't go blaming it all on him, you were crazy long before any of this happened."

Chris had the good grace to snort as he glared this time. "To answer your question," he said pointedly, "Vin's not at the point where we can apply pressure yet, and any sort of question or probably even knowing that Fowler's still giving orders like that would be pressure. I sure as hell don't want to be the one holding his guts together."

Buck nodded, understanding. But something stirred in the back of his mind and he asked, "Fowler don't seem like the type to be patient. Wonder why he ain't said nothing to Vin already."

Chris frowned as well. "You don't think he's letting it go for now? Until Vin's . . . better?"

"Do you?" Buck countered.

Chris didn't answer, but he didn't have to.

"Lots of ways to . . . get a man in the mood," Buck said quietly. "All those drugs Mary's got him on, wouldn't be hard to add something else to the mix."

Chris jerked, his head snapping up to stare at the door. "Fuck," he growled. "Fowler wouldn't dare."

But they both knew he would.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 12 months, 24.79 days fusion point.

It was barely three days later, not long enough for Chris to have forgotten, but long enough for him not to be thinking about it. It was pretty clear in hindsight - if Fowler could mess with one of them why not go for both?

And in hindsight, he knew there was not one damned thing he could have done to stop it; the drug could have been coming in through the air vents, or the water, or the food – or, as Fowler himself persisted in claiming, there was no drug at all, it was something that resonated between the two of them because of the radiation.

And perhaps it was. Fowler wasn't the kind of man to lie about something like that, especially when he was this vested in it.

It was innocent enough; they had moved their work-out equipment into the central room of their now-shared quarters, Fowler and his team pleased at the energy they were saving by being able to decrease the containment field around the two men. Vin was on the treadmill, his eyes closed, his headphones on, his body covered in the sparkling sweat that Chris didn't see on himself but did see on the other man. Even where it streaked his t-shirt and running shorts, it left a glimmer on the fabric, a shine that wasn't just from the dampness.

He'd watched Vin work out before; they often had their own little competitions, ways of pushing each other just that little bit more. But today – now, it was different. He found himself looking at the curve of Vin's ass, not the hardness of the muscle, but the actual curve itself. It was the way he used to look at Sarah's breast, the gentle swell that flowed so perfectly into a roundness that fit snugly into the flex of his palm and spread of his fingers, the way he looked at that curve of Buck's shoulders.

His hand seemed to itch from wanting to touch it.

Then his whole body seemed to itch, and all he could think about was the way Vin had felt pressed up against him in that hug a few weeks back, the weight of him, lean and flat and solid. Like Buck, but smaller. More compact.

Thinking of Buck should have curbed some of this odd preoccupation, but instead, it seemed to feed it. Their time together yesterday had been short; the team had been running a late op, and Buck hadn't been able to talk before it. Afterward, he had been tired, and hurt, even though he'd tried to brush it off, Chris had seen the pain in the tight lines of his body, the way he held one arm close to his side. Knowing his lover, the ship had probably taken a few bad turns and he hadn't been belted in. He'd busted some ribs, maybe cracked his shoulder.

Chris hadn't kept him long, worried and frustrated at his inability to do anything to help his team or his lover. There was no use putting Buck through his anger.

But he'd still been upset this morning, thinking that doing something physical would help take away some of the stress. It was definitely working to distract him, but not in the way that he'd intended.

That thought, though, was far away, distant as the faint music he heard from Vin's earphones. His attention was on one strand of hair that had pulled loose of the tie holding back the rest of it. It hung along Vin's face, parallel to his long throat, the end curling back to catch at the collar of his loose shirt. The color was darker there, the tip of the strand wet with sweat, and moving rhythmically as Vin ran.

Curves, of ass and hair and . . .

He wasn't aware of moving, but he found himself standing in front of the treadmill, watching the way the curl of hair bounced, the way the triangle of sweat spread across Vin's chest until it connected the tiny points of his nipples. Small, he remembered, little brown buttons that hardened at the slightest stir of air.

Something changed, Vin slowed, and Chris looked up into confused blue eyes that burned.

"Something wrong?" Vin asked, but like the music, like the thought of Buck, the words were far away.

He stared hard into the blue fire, willing Vin to understand something he didn't understand himself. At the same time, he lifted one hand, his fingers going unerringly for the closest point of the wet triangle on Vin's shirt.

"What are you doing?" Vin's voice was wary, hesitant, and he slowed even more, the treadmill compensating. "Are you – "

The flesh was pebbled under the cloth, firm and pointed and aroused. Chris held his gaze, watching as the blue gave way to dilated pupils, black and flaring gold. As thin lips parted, white teeth flashing in the dimness.

"Chris," Vin snarled, backing away, but not fast enough.

Chris held fast to the nipple, catching the opposite shoulder as well. At the time, there seemed to be little resistance, but later he found bruises and scratches where Vin had tried to push him off.

Tried, until his own arousal caught up.

Afterwards, the only thing Chris had to cling to was that there was no kissing. It wasn't romantic – there was no seduction, no gentleness, no affection, not even the close friendship that had characterized his relationship with Vin. It was fast and violent, animals in heat. He had them up against the wall, one hand tangled in Vin's hair while the other shoved the tight shorts down and out of the way. At the first touch, Vin was just beginning to arouse, his penis not flaccid but nowhere close to erect.

That changed quickly, Chris' fingers wrapping around it and pulling even as he ground against Vin's sharp hip. His mouth was at Vin's throat, his tongue tasting salt and sweat and something else that he didn't know, his teeth pressing into taut flesh and stretched tendons.

The column in his hand was slender and hot, not as long as he was used to but long enough to pump. Wetness oozed and smeared under his palm, and he knew it would glitter in the darkness like his own.

But he was more aware of the hands plunging into his own pants, kneading at his ass, pulling him close enough to trap his own swollen cock against bare skin.

It didn't take much from there, heat and friction and a body that was moving with him, gasping with him, just – there with him.

There with him, in his arms, under his hands, around his cock – physically present.

He came hard, maybe too hard; for the first time, he felt the energy rippling through him and out of him, fuzzily worried that there was no way to contain it.

But like so much else this day, that was a very minor concern; he was coasting through the aftermath, riding a sort of shock wave of satiation that left little room for any coherent thought. Vin came, stuttering, energy pulsing around Chris in tempo to the spurts jetting over his forearm and knuckles.

The air around them crackled, the walls seemed to shake, and he wrapped himself around the other man, pulling him close and losing himself in the need of another body as close and as responsive as his own.

He could have stayed that way forever, certainly longer, but the euphoria dissipated quicker for Vin, who pushed against him, weakly at first, then with a force that knocked him back.

"What the fuck are you doing?" the other man snarled, but even as he did, there was a flicker in the electricity, lights, the few that were on dimming, computers and other equipment beeping as the currents feeding them were disrupted. There was another vibration, this time through the floor as well as the walls.

"Chris! Vin!" Mary's voice called through the speakers, and with no conscious thought, Chris pulled himself together, straightening his clothes and wiping his hand on his shirt.

"Yeah," he answered, noticing that Vin was facing the wall, also pulling himself back together.

"What the hell happened?" she demanded. "The energy spike, it's breaking the containment!"

"Good job, Larabee," Fowler's voice cut in, and Chris felt himself stiffen. "Don't know how you boys did it, but you met the quota for this week already. You keep that up and we won't need to rebuild those power plants in the other quadrants."

He was aware of Vin turning, the blue eyes angry and horrified at the same time, but his own temper flared first. "Fuck you, Fowler," he shouted. "That was a one-time thing – it won't happen again!"

"Chris! You and Vin need to separate!" Mary was trying to yell over him. "The energy – "

"It's contained," Fowler's voice cut through every thing else even though he wasn't loud. "And for the record, Larabee – you just set a new standard to meet."

Before Chris could even come up with an answer, the man's soft chuckle terminated in the distinctive 'pop' of the channel closing.

"Fuck you!" he yelled anyway, seething. "God damn you, Fowler!"

"Calm down, Chris," Mary said, her voice strained. "You're breathing too hard."

"Calm down!" he yelled, but his head was pounding. Something gave then, his body suddenly weak, and he felt himself falling.

He hit the wall, heard the dull thud before the impact registered, wondered if he could keep from landing face first, then strong hands caught at his arms and he was eased down. His legs stretched out in front of him, the floor cool under his skin, and he found himself looking into Vin's face before everything faded into nothingness.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 12 months, 26.02 days fusion point.

"I don't understand." Buck was trying to, he really was. But it wasn't making any sense. "Vin's straight. And Chris . . . "

Mary looked down, and Terry glanced between the two of them before sighing. "We don't understand it all either, Buck," she finally said, quietly. "There's definitely some sort of attraction at the, what, atomic level? Dr. Fowler's people have documented it. They think that whatever happened to them has made them . . . more stable when they touch each other. It's very low-level – not an attraction, more like magnetism, but it is something that sort of draws them together."

"To have sex," Buck said, trying his damnedest to stay rational about this.

"We don't understand it," Mary said quickly. "But it's more complicated than Chris cheating on you."

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, wishing he'd stayed with Josiah and JD, working on getting the ship ready for tomorrow's mission.

But he'd been worried about Chris; JD had reported the energy spikes coming from the complex, too close to where Chris and Vin were housed to be a coincidence. He'd been worried, apparently for no reason. Or the wrong reason.

"So they had sex and Chris short-circuited," he said, trying to smile and failing miserably.

"All of his vital signs are stable. A little weak; I think he burned himself out," Mary said a little ruefully.

"Yeah," Buck agreed. He moved as if to rise, but Mary held up a hand.

"I know you're angry," she said quietly. "This has been hell on all of you. All of you." She glanced to Terry, who nodded and took up the thread.

"Like I said, there are a lot of different reasons why this could have happened, Buck, and some of them can't be blamed on Chris and Vin."

He mulled her words for a few seconds, until he understood. "Fowler?" he asked quietly, even as he began to think of the ways he could kill the man.

She didn't answer, not in words, but her eyes once more strayed to Terry.

"You know that we've had to keep them on anti-depressants, Vin especially. It's possible that something in the mix of what they've been given reacted unexpectedly with their body chemistries. It was recently suggested to me to add some mild relaxants to the mix, mostly for Chris." Her gaze was steady on Buck's, the message as clear as he knew he was going to get it. Fowler had made sure that Chris had something to lower his inhibitions. Something to make him respond.

Son of a bitch.

"Vin?" he asked, thinking to give the younger man the benefit of the doubt. He might kill him too, but maybe not. Maybe just hurt him real bad, rip off his dick.

"It wasn't his idea," Terry said quietly. "He wasn't even involved until Chris pulled him off the treadmill. We've got the footage of it if you want to see it."

Footage. Of course they had 'footage'. Because nothing Chris and Vin did was private. Right now, Fowler was probably watching it, getting off on his own little power trip.

"Vin's feeling pretty bad about this." Mary touched his hand again. "He had enough to deal with before this. Now he knows everything, and he's . . . not happy. I think if it weren't for watching out for Chris, we'd be back to where we were two months ago."

"Well that ain't Chris' fault!" Buck fumed. "Chris has been protecting him since this whole damned thing started – "

"I know." The words were soft, but unexpected, coming through the speakers. The link to Chris' rooms had been active, Mary worried about Chris.

Buck turned to the monitor on Mary's desk, wanting to reach through it to the man on the other side, wrap his hands around that long throat and choke the life out of him.

Seeing Vin, though, gave him pause.

He did look like hell. His hair was a mess, part of it still in one of those strange ties he used to pull it back on missions and when they were working out, but most of it hanging loose and knotted. He was still in work-out clothes, probably what he had been wearing when this whole mess had started.

He wasn't as glowy though, a sign that he'd gotten something out of his little interlude with Chris.

"Do you?" Buck asked, his voice hard but not loud. "Do you know that Fowler set a quota that Chris has to meet every week, for the war effort? Do you know that he's doing it, we're doing it, while we're all nursing your suicidal mood? Do you have any idea how hard this has been on him – on us – and now you go and – "

"I didn't go and do anything!" Vin shot back, his voice not as soft, but not yet yelling. "I wasn't the one pulling Chris off a treadmill to – to – " He choked, turning away from the screen. But his words were clear. "I didn't attack him, Buck, he came at me!"

"You gonna stand there and tell me you didn't want it?" Buck yelled back. "That you didn't get up and get off with him?" His fist slammed hard into the top of the desk, and Mary and Terry both jumped. They stared at him, and he knew they were scared, but he went on, the frustration of the past year finding a target. "Maybe that's the problem – you been in the closet all this time, finally got your chance at having Chris?"

Vin whipped around, hair waving around his face. "Fuck no!" he yelled this time, and gold flares started rippling through his skin. "That what you think? I just been sitting around pining for your boyfriend, pretending to be straight? Fuck you, Buck – you and Chris got egos the size of an Albie fighter ship! I ain't got no interest in his dick or yours or – fuck you!"

It was a rare thing to get Vin riled and under other circumstances, Buck would have been laughing by now, amused by Vin's ineloquence and the fact that 'fuck' was all he could manage.

But at this moment, it was the last thing he wanted to have in his head when it came to Vin.

"You stay the hell away from him," Buck snarled. "It might kill me to get in there, but I swear, Vin, you get near him again and I'll take you out with me."

"You think that's gonna scare me?" Vin shot back. "I don't want him, Buck, maybe you oughta be threatening him – "

"Maybe you both need to calm down," Mary said loudly as she slipped one arm over Buck's bicep then wormed her way in between him and the camera. "Let's all step back for a minute and think about this, and about what we can and can't do."

He didn't pull away from her touch, he hardly knew she was there. But he did give in to the pulling, letting her put some distance between him and Vin – or the monitor that held his image.

For his part, Vin wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, closing his eyes and breathing hard.

"I don't think anyone's happy about this," Terry said quietly. "But we need to find a way to deal with it that's not going to make it worse for all of you."

"Then get them the hell out of there," Buck said. But he flexed his hand, forcing himself to relax.

"We're working on it," Mary said, directing him back to the chair he had left, "but you know it's going to take time. We don't have any room for mistakes with this, and you know that."

"Separate them," he said, but his own steam was running out. "If this is some sort of thing they have no control over, then they don't want it either. Put them back in their own places."

Vin spoke then, taking up that particular argument. "I'm going, Buck, just as soon as Chris is awake. I ain't planning on letting that happen again."

"Like you were planning on it this time?" Buck countered even as he settled back into the chair.

Vin looked at him, his eyes open and tired and haunted. "No, Buck, I wasn't planning on it this time. Never thought I'd have to watch myself with Chris. You know that."

It wasn't the words, it was the pain in Vin's voice that finally broke through.

"Goddammit," Buck sighed, leaning forward to prop himself on his hands. "Goddammit."

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 12 months, 27.24 days fusion point.

Chris kept the connection open, waiting for what seemed like hours for Buck to return to their room in the team suite. Knowing Buck's passwords helped; the link had been closed when he'd first keyed it, a sign that Buck already knew.

A sign that his lover was as upset as he had every right to be.

So Chris sat and waited, trying not to remember the details of what had happened, trying to will it into a dusty corner of his mind where he could lock it away with the other mistakes he had made in his life.

It was late when Buck finally entered the room, looking as tired and worn as Chris had ever seen him. The other man didn't look at the monitor, had probably forgotten that Chris could activate it without his code.

Buck was stripping down, and while a part of Chris desperately wanted to watch, to make a new memory of them together to over-write the memory of what had happened yesterday, he knew it wouldn't be right, would be a sort of insult to Buck at this point.

"Buck," he said quietly. "I re-opened the link – need to talk to you."

Buck had stilled at the sound, and even now, he didn't look up to the monitor, didn't answer. He knew all right.

Chris sighed. He'd wanted to be able to tell him, to give him at least that dignity. But despite all the secrecy Fowler and his people practiced, the two men trapped in 'the box' weren't allowed even a hint of privacy.

"Sit down, please" Chris said, and scrubbed his hand through his too-short hair. "I'd like to talk to you about it."

'It'.

"Ain't much to talk about," Buck said, but he sat down finally, in the desk chair. Slowly, he looked up his face as empty as Chris had ever seen it.

He tried anyway, needing to give Buck something, anything. "You know we've always been straight with each other. Always told the truth and taken things as they come."

Buck didn't say anything, but there was a slight tilt to his head which Chris decided to take as encouragement.

"I don't know what they've told you, what Vin's told you, but I'd like the chance to tell you what I've heard and what I know." He paused, but Buck still said nothing. "Mary says there's an ion response, something about what they did to Vin, when they adjusted him so that we could be together. It's like an itch under your skin."

Buck's head moved again, more definitely a nod.

"She says that something in his energy now is attracted to mine, that we're drawn together. That when we touch, we form some sort of circuit that . . . well, I don't quite understand all the dynamics to it, but we're attracted to each other and over time, that attraction builds up and has to . . . has to be released." It seemed so clinical, so much less than what he remembered of the way it had felt yesterday.

Buck, apparently thought so too. He smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile, and his voice was rough when he finally spoke. "So you and Vin are some kind of machine now, like a laser or a reactor core? You get to hold hands and point at things and shoot fire from your fingers like super-heroes?"

Chris looked away. "I dry-humped him against the wall this morning. But I reckon you already know that, don't you."

"Uh huh," Buck answered, "Reckon I do. Reckon I know all about it already, all about it and way more than I really wanted to know."

Chris swallowed, forcing himself to look back up, to meet Buck's eyes. "I don't know what it was, Buck, I couldn't stop myself, couldn't even think clearly until after I came. It came out of nowhere. I was walking across the room and suddenly, we were just against the wall, touching. I . . ." He stopped, unable to find the words. "He's… he's pretty pissed at me."

"Me too," Buck said, but his face was worse than any anger Chris had ever seen on it. It was dead.

"Yeah… yeah." Chris leaned in, his face as close to the monitor as he could, searching those familiar features. "You okay, Buck?"

He saw it then, the one thing he could never stand to be: the cause of tears. But Buck didn't blink or reach a hand to wipe them away, and his voice, while husky, was even as he said, "Am I okay? What do you think, Chris?"

Chris's eyes dropped first, and then his head, forehead resting on his upraised hand. "I can't think. I don't know what to think, or what the fuck to do. It'll be in the reports, you'll know more about the science behind it before I do, so it's not like I could have kept it a secret." He hadn't meant to say it like that and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he stiffened, looking back up and adding quickly, "Not that I'd have kept it from you. I should have, maybe, but I wouldn't."

"Why?" Buck asked, "Why not try to hide it?"

It was hard to get the words out, but he'd thought long enough about the answer that he didn't hesitate. "Because words are the only thing we have left."

Buck watched him for a few seconds, before finally swiping a hand over his cheeks. His voice was tighter now, the anger finally showing. "No, they're not, you sorry bastard. We've got a damned sight more than that, and if you don't see it, then you're blind and stupid." He pushed himself out of the chair, his voice hot as he spat, "I'll see you later."

Chris' own anger, so close to the surface through all of this, broke as well. "Buck, sit your ass back down!"

"I don't think so, Chris," Buck said, and left the room with ground-eating strides, leaving Chris to watch the door close before him.

He deserved it, he thought, scrubbing at the dampness on his own cheeks. Dammit it all, he deserved it.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 13 months, 16.17 days fusion point.

"Dealer takes two," Ezra said smugly.

JD laughed, Josiah grinned, and Vin shook his head. "Toss my cards in, Nate, ain't nothing I care to try for."

"Why, surely, Mr. Tanner, you aren't giving up so quickly." Ezra grinned at the camera. JD had rigged one of the monitors so that it sat on a platform at the end of the oval table in the team's small communal room. They had a camera mounted at its top so that Vin had the sense of being at the table with them, and they had the sense of him being there. There was another one at the opposite end, where Chris 'sat' when the seven of them were playing together.

Not that Chris had joined them much these days. Or Buck.

"Guess I got more sense 'n money these days," he said, forcing his eyes away from the dark hollows under Ezra's eyes and the new worry lines in Josiah's brow. They were tired, he knew, being pushed harder and harder as the war raged on and the Albies got more desperate.

"I believe I'll follow that wisdom myself," Josiah said, throwing in his own cards. "Beer, anyone?"

Vin envied them, staying quiet as JD and Nathan agreed, and Ezra groused again about the lack of quality available to them, what with the rationing.

"That bad?" Vin asked, watching as JD bet more than his hand was probably worth, and Nathan also dropped out.

"I'm 'bout sick of stew," Nathan answered, shaking his head as JD grinned when Ezra took the bet. "No matter what they call it, it pretty much comes down to some sort of beans with some sort of root with a lot of water, not enough seasoning, and too many protein additives." He glanced to the monitor. "You boys getting something different?"

Vin shook his head. "Nope. I just ain't been paying it a lot of attention, I guess." Not that he would have told them if he and Chris were getting special treatment. They were all he had now, and he knew how hard it was for them to make time for him, to include him in their lives.

"Two pair!" JD announced proudly, fanning his cards on the table. "Beat that, Ez!"

Vin watched as Ezra arched an eyebrow, then very carefully fanned his own hand. "Three twos," he announced with a slight grin. "Small cards, but then, with three of them, it hardly matters."

Vin almost felt sorry for JD, but the kid really should have learned by now. Fortunately, Josiah was back, handing out cans of the cheapest brew made, and one of the few still available. Vin swallowed, envious. He'd trade every damned drug they were trying to give him right now for one of those.

"Piss water," Josiah sighed as he opened his own. But it didn't stop him from drinking long and deep.

"You'll be pleased to note, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said, drawing Vin's attention away from Josiah, "that the war effort goes well. Whether it was your intention or not, the laser cannons worked most effectively in today's encounter with Albouais forces."

The others tensed, exchanging not-very-covert glances among themselves, but in a way, it was a relief. Vin knew they all knew where the energy was coming from, but so far, no one had been brave enough to mention it to his face. Trust Ezra to break the ice.

"It sure as hell wasn't my intention," he said, "but glad to know some good came from it."

He waited, watching more glances pass between the four of them in the room, knowing that it would be JD with his insatiable curiosity, and the protection of his youth, who would finally break. He wasn't disappointed.

"So, what really happened?" he asked, and in his way, he met Vin's eyes. "I mean, we've heard rumors – the place is running wild with them, and Buck's sorta said, well, a few things, but . . . "

"JD," Nathan chastised, looking toward Vin. "Ain't none of our business – "

"It's all right, Nate," Vin said. "Reckon y'all got as much right to ask as anybody – hell, more." He sighed, looking down at his hands in his lap. "I can't say that I rightly know. Mary thinks that it's something that's caused by the radiation, mixed up with all the drugs we were on, and maybe . . . maybe something Fowler did to . . . get what he wanted."

"Bastard," JD snarled.

Josiah reached out a hand, touching JD's arm, but Vin shrugged.

"Doing his job," he said quietly. "Like Ez said, war effort's working at the moment, gotta keep those weapons working somehow and right now, I guess we're about it."

"You're awful generous, Vin," Josiah said quietly. "I think I'd be righteously pissed."

Vin felt the first sincere smile he'd felt in a while, since it had happened. "Didn't say I wasn't. But I figure Chris and Buck are taking care of all of that."

"Buck is pretty pissed," JD agreed, then winced when he realized what he'd said.

"Got a right to be," Vin said. "Reckon we all do. But that don't stop the war, don't stop the fact that there ain't many choices. Don't stop the fact that the Albies are taking us apart one piece at a time."

"So, you gonna keep doing what Fowler wants?" Nathan asked. "War's coming along, but it ain't over yet."

That was a little closer to the point than he was willing to think on. He felt himself blush, hating that it was even more obvious now than it ever had been.

Ezra covered for him this time. "I suspect that we hardly need to hear that answer," he said smoothly. "I am more concerned for the balance of things between you and our esteemed leader. Have you exiled yourself or has he banished you?"

Something in the way he put it annoyed Vin, but it was better than the previous question. "Little of both, I reckon," he said. "Don't matter. I ain't in no mood to cause trouble about it." No need to mention that Chris still hadn't spoken to him, even through the safety of the comm system. Somehow it had all become his fault. That riled him the most, but as he'd just explained, none of this was fair or just. Chris was dealing with his own guilt, and might calm down.

"Seems you're doing all the forgiving in this, Vin," Josiah commented, leaning forward. "Forgiveness is a great thing. But resignation is a bit different."

Vin shook his head, looking back down at his hands. "You tell me what I can do about any of it from in here, and I swear to you, I'll try it. But I ain't seeing no options."

Before any of them could answer, the external door opened and Buck came in. He got several steps into the room, nodding to JD and the others before realizing that Vin was on the monitor. He stopped then, staring, and Vin swallowed.

"Vin," Buck said after a few seconds.

"Buck," Vin nodded, not looking away, but not pushing either. After a few more seconds of silence, he started to sign off, but as he opened his mouth, Buck spoke.

"You holding up all right?"

Vin blinked, caught the flicker of surprise on Ezra's face, and nodded once. "Guess so," he said, clearing his throat. "You?"

Buck shrugged and forced a grin Vin knew was fake. "Could be worse." Then he frowned. "You two could've killed each other, and I'd have hated to get court-martialed in the middle of a war for taking Fowler apart with my bare hands."

Vin nodded; he'd thought of little else. It was, in fact, a damned good way not to think about the mess on everyone's minds, in one way or another. "You ever change your mind on that, you give him something from me," Vin said darkly.

"I think you can count on that," Buck said.

They looked at each other, growing more uncomfortable in the silence, until Vin blurted, "Chris all right?"

Something flashed through Buck's eyes, and Vin looked away, knowing he'd asked the wrong thing.

But after a second, the other man sighed. "So he ain't talked to you?"

Vin shrugged, then shook his head. "Not since . . ." He licked at his lips. "Listen, I better sign off. You boys have a good night – "

"He's feeling pretty bad," Buck interrupted him, his words even. "He didn't mean for it to happen."

Vin swallowed again, wishing he had something, anything to drink, to mitigate this sense of inadequacy. "Never thought he did," he heard himself say. His mouth went on after that, surprising him even more. "I sure as hell ain't no substitute for the Bucklin."

The grin was instant; Buck wasn't vain about many things, but his love-making talents were among them. He was good and he knew he was good, and Vin's statement, while risky, had its intended effect.

Picking up the change in mood, Ezra jumped in immediately. "For which we are all thankful. One of him is more than enough. I don't care to consider the horror of receiving unsolicited advice concerning my romantic pastimes from anyone else."

Vin suspected that the turn of phrase was intentional. It worked; Buck jumped right in, his natural good humor coming through. "That mean you like receiving it from me, Ez?"

"'Ra'," Ezra said dryly, "My name is 'Ezra', not 'Ez'. And as a point of fact, no, I do not appreciate your efforts to assist where no assistance is needed – "

"You getting laid regular now?" Buck grinned. "Why, who is this poor woman?"

The others were laughing, not so much at the tired humor of this as at the release of the tension. Vin found himself chuckling as well, realizing how much he missed this. The friendships. It was why he had stayed with the team when given the option to promote out. It was why he'd never been able to set the date with Charlotte, something the others didn't know, even though he knew Josiah and Ezra suspected it.

The laughter grew as inevitably, Buck's attentions came to JD and his confused attempts to woo Casey Wells.

"Hell, boy, that girl can probably show you a thing or two! Or is that what you're afraid of, that she's gonna know more than you?" Buck smacked the back of JD's head as the kid squawked a denial that had all of them laughing.

It was good; the only thing missing was Chris' dry chuckle, which Vin tried not to think about. He missed the other man – when he wasn't pissed about what had happened.

When he wasn't distracted by the memory of those hands on him.

He blew out a breath, shifting in his chair. The cushion was new, the old one finally disintegrating, just when it started getting comfortable.

Just like his friendship with Chris.

Another loud burst of laughter brought him back to the conversation in time to hear Buck announce, "What you know about sex wouldn't fit in my thumb! Hell, JD, you ain't got enough balls to ask the girl out, much less get into her pants!"

"Buck! That ain't – don't you even think about – how can you talk about Casey like that?"

They were all laughing so hard that even JD, sputtering and indignant, ended up laughing as well. JD's ignorance was intentional; Casey had made few bones about her experience, even flirting quite overtly with Vin and Ezra, her offers leaving little to the imagination. They all knew it was an attempt to make JD jealous enough to finally do something, which had, sort of, worked. He'd finally asked her out.

"JD, I can talk about Casey like that because I know women," Buck announced cheerfully. "I know that little girl knows what she wants, and for no reason I can figure, she wants you. But you keep dancing around, afraid of her, and you're gonna drive her right on into the arms of someone else."

JD sighed and rolled his eyes, but Vin knew the kid was listening.

"And then," Buck continued, "you're gonna be back to watching them films I got for you all by your lonesome."

"Yes," Josiah agreed dryly, "like the rest of us."

It hit him then, the reminder that he wasn't the only one. They might not all be locked in a tiny room with no windows and no company, but they weren't all having fun.

Not even Buck.

Ezra snorted. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Sanchez. Some of us enjoy the company of the fairer sex, finding it a delightful contrast to the juvenile antics of our own gender."

"Then why ain't you there now, Ez?" Buck countered, emphasizing the other man's shortened name.

"Because even the fairer sex finds its own company often more agreeable," he answered with a sigh.

"Ladies night out," Nathan sighed as well. "That's where Raine is, too."

Nostalgia hit him hard then; Raine and Inez were part of a group of women who got together once a week to appreciate life. Charlotte had been a part of that group, at least while they were together. He wondered if she still went, if the others still kept up with her, still saw her and drank beer with her and –

"Vin?"

He jerked, unaware he'd been so far away. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "Just thinking."

"Looked awful deep there, brother," Josiah rumbled.

Nothing he had any intention of talking about. Instead, he went for the next best thing he could come up with. Looking squarely at Buck, he said, "So, you got JD videos?"

Buck grinned, but there was a question behind it.

Make or break, Vin thought, Buck would either take it as it was intended or . . . not. "I could stand some of those myself."

Buck arched one eyebrow, his grin wavering. "You serious?"

The question was more than playful, more than a joke, and they all knew it. He'd already told the others, more or less, so what difference did it make to actually say it to Buck?

He nodded.

Buck's grinned returned. "First thing in the morning, Junior, a full collection for you."

"He can have mine," JD shot back, oblivious to the subtlety of the situation. "I don't need them."

Buck shook his head, laughing now, loud and long and relieved. "Hell, boy, you done wore yours out, didn't you. Nah, Vin deserves a set all for himself."

Nobody mentioned the long-term benefits.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;  
\+ 14 months, 09.73 days fusion point.

"It's an interesting suggestion, Larabee, and under other circumstances, your suspicions might have a foundation." Fowler sat back in his chair, the tip of his cigar blazing red as he sucked on it.

Chris clenched his jaw, both at the man's words and the presence of the cigar in this complex. Like there weren't enough ways to cause trouble here without adding smoking to the mix.

Worse, though, was his own desire to have one of those cigars. He suspected that Fowler knew that and that this little show was more to annoy him than to actually smoke.

Fowler went on, not giving time to retort. "But as I've said already, we're not doing anything to you two at this time. Tanner's doing his part, so there's no need at the moment to be doing anything extra to encourage you. No drugs, no subliminal messages in your soap operas, no pheromones added to your air supply. Mr. Wilmington has been most generous in supplementing Tanner's video needs, so we haven't even been involved in that."

Chris jerked despite himself. Buck was giving Vin porn?

Fowler arched an eyebrow and said evenly, "Captain Wilmington's packages to Lieutenant Tanner have been pretty regular."

"Goddammit," he snarled, passingly aware that he really needed to expand his vocabulary.

"Maybe you're just feeling lonely, Larabee," Fowler suggested. "Or it could be the attraction between the two of you. It's unfortunate that we didn't know about it before we consolidated your living space. The way things are at the moment, with the war taking its toll, we don't have the manpower or the ability to rebuild the shielding. The war is finally beginning to come our way, but it's still slow going. You and Tanner are doing well, but I fear that with the pressures of the war and the records of how efficiently and quickly you increased the power yield with that one particular incident last month, some of our strategists are thinking that, with your assistance, they could get several of our major cannons on-line again. It would be quite an advantage for us right now."

"Ain't gonna happen, Fowler," he growled back. "Don't neither of us want it."

Fowler arched one eyebrow, pulling his cigar from his mouth. "This conversation suggests otherwise, Larabee. It seems to me that whatever this attraction is between the two of you, you are feeling its effects. Perhaps it would alleviate some of your discomfort if you and Tanner –"

"What would alleviate my discomfort would be the knowledge that I was under the control of someone I could trust to help me, not use me! I swear, Fowler, if I find out you set us up, that you fed us anything to make that happen, I'll find a way to get out of here and make you pay."

Chris slammed the connection closed so hard that he almost broke the bones in his hand. He was not lusting after Vin – hell, they'd hardly spoken since it had happened, certainly not been in the same room. They kept at least one door closed between them at all times, two most of the time. Whatever this damned thing was, it was not in Chris' head. He loved Buck and he wanted Buck. Not Vin.

Damn it. He didn't want Vin. Even if his body thought otherwise.

The dreams had started about ten days after – after . . . . It'd been a while, a long while, since he'd had one that involved arousal, since before he and Buck had moved in together. Their relationship had left his body little need for subconscious release.

He didn't remember the specifics of those dreams, just general impressions and certain situations. The first time here though, the dream was so intense that he awoke thinking he was actually in bed with someone, warm and sated and happy.

He held the euphoria until he realized he was alone, his belly smeared with his own release, and his dream lover not the man he loved. The blue eyes he'd dreamed of as he came hadn't been dark enough, the hair splayed against his pillowcase too long and too light.

The first time, he'd thought he was reacting to what had happened, some overload from the events that had caused the scene on the treadmill. But the second time it happened, he'd started to think about Fowler's demands and what he would do to get what he wanted. The third time, last night, he'd awakened certain that the bastard was playing them both to get his energy.

Even now, with all that Fowler demanded, he found it hard to believe that his body wanted more.

He'd refused to believe it when, in one of the rare communications with Vin, the other man had seemed confused at the suggestion that he, too, might have been having dreams of Chris. It couldn't just be him. It couldn't. That made no sense at all.

His computer 'beeped' the incoming connection sound and he glanced at monitor. Buck. He wasn't certain he was in the mood for this, but he hit 'receive' and his lover's smiling face filled the monitor.

"Chris!"

His cheerful attitude grated now, and all he could remember was anger at being surprised. "You giving Vin porn?" he demanded, glaring at the other man.

He wasn't at all surprised as Buck blinked, then laughed. "Thought it might help a little and seems I was right. Vin ain't having any trouble with – "

"Yeah, I heard," he interrupted. "And how the hell do you know? You and Fowler set up some way to watch him?"

The grin on Buck's face remained but it was tighter now. "Why, Chris? You want in on that action, too?"

Chris glared at him, but before he could retort, Buck went on, his arms crossed over his chest.

"'Course you already know about that, don't you. What he looks like when he – "

"I ain't interested in him!" Chris finally found his voice.

"You sure as hell talk about him enough!" Buck shot back.

"I do not!"

Buck stared at him, not saying anything. He didn't have to.

Chris turned away, angry, but not with Buck.

After a few seconds, Buck asked softly, "Is it the radiation? Or is it something else, Chris?"

"Ain't nothing," he said flatly, meaning it.

Wanting to mean it.

Buck went on as if he'd said nothing because, in truth, they both knew he had. "It's been a year, Chris. I know how lonely that makes a man. Hell, even one surrounded by people the way I am. At least I get to reach out and touch people every now and then, even if it is just friendly-like." He hesitated, and Chris felt the burn of anger again. "You ain't never been the most friendly of people, so I reckon it's probably taken you about this long to get that lonely."

"I ain't lonely," Chris snapped. He wasn't. How could he be, with Buck's constant chatter, and Mary's, and Fowler, goddamn him, and the other hundreds of people who seemed to want his attention day and night and –

"Not for talk," Buck agreed, his voice both sad and smug at the same time. "But then, you and Vin ain't never been much for talking. The two of you could sit for hours and say not one word to each other or anyone else, but you were happy with him."

"And we're happy now," Chris growled back. "We can talk just as much as we need to."

Buck snorted, his arms finally dropping from their defensive position. "He's the only person who can be in the same room with you, Chris. After almost a year of being alone, it ain't no wonder things happened the way they did."

"It wasn't like that! I ain't weak!" But his body moved, twisting away, and he knew he'd lied, not just to Buck but to himself.

Of the two of them, Buck was the more forgiving. "No, Chris," he said quietly, "you ain't. And not a one of us here would say that, even after what happened 'tween you and Vin."

"Nothing happened between us," he growled. "Nothing that means anything."

The silence lasted long enough that he thought that Buck might actually believe it.

"Then why are you scared of him?"

He whirled back to the monitor, furious at the accusation. "I am not scared of anybody!"

Buck smiled, but it was sad, as sad as his eyes. "That why you've banished him, locked him in his room and won't let him out?"

"I did not banish him!" And before Buck could argue the point, he severed this connection too. "Goddammit!" he yelled into the empty room. "He doesn't want to be with me anymore than I want to be with him!"

But the echo that came back to him knew the lie as well, both of them: he had banished Vin, blaming all of this on him - and the blame was without merit.

He paced for several minutes, the anger and frustration giving him more energy than he wanted, before finally reaching a point where he could think. After another minute or so, he walked back to the comm unit, reopening the link.

The room – their room was dark, just a faint light coming from the security lights. Buck was curled up on his side, alone in the bed, facing the camera. In the message scroll at the bottom of the screen, he read, 'wake me up', followed by Buck's sig line: 'there's more to life than drinkin' and fightin'.'

He sat for a long time, just watching the other man sleep.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 16 months, 13.23 days fusion point.

"Roll it, roll it!" Buck screamed even as he braced himself in his seat. He could smell the smoke and scorched metal, hoped that the weapons were still operating.

Hoped that the men operating the weapons were okay.

Josiah struggled with the controls, cursing in ways Buck had never heard before, trying to keep their little ship in the air, trying to keep it out of the line of fire of the two Albie ships shadowing them. Buck heard the low thrum of the pulse engine gearing up, knew that at least JD was still back there. Then a cool voice called through his comm system, "Targeting port, cannon fire in three, two . . . ." He never called the 'one', never called the release, didn't have to.

Josiah kept the ship steady through the two beats, then rolled it hard, all of them feeling the hard jerk of gravity as the ship responded. There was a sharp push as something behind them exploded, then JD's loud, "Gotcha, you bastard! Great shot, Ez!"

But the words were barely out of his mouth when there was a stronger push, this one guiding them from one side, and an explosion far too close to home. Klaxons blared inside the ship, and she rolled again and again, a loud hum drowning out almost everything else.

"Direct hit, port side!" he heard Ezra call, his voice louder now but still calm, even as another explosion knocked them up – or something, he wasn't certain what was up or down, his orientation shot by the rolls.

"Damnation!" Josiah growled, his teeth clenched. "Stabilizer's gone, thrust is gone – can't get her balanced!" He was working it, too, Buck could see the muscles of his large biceps straining against the fabric of his uniform shirt.

Another shock and the speed of the rolling increased; he heard a shriek, then Ezra calling less calmly, "JD! Hold on – grab this!"

He managed to catch sight of his own video display, forcing himself to interpret it despite the nausea building in his belly.

Nathan's voice, barely audible, "He's alive! Hang on, kid!"

Ezra's voice, confirming what Buck could already tell from his panel. "Right side breached, we're losing atmosphere!"

"Don't matter," Josiah called out, "we're dropping anyway! You guys grab masks!"

Buck did, but it hardly mattered. Josiah managed some control of the craft, just enough to get them into the ocean. They hit hard, but the ship held together, and Josiah stayed conscious long enough to set a shield and a beacon.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 16 months, 14.02 days fusion point.

"How is he?" The words seemed to come from very far away, even though they sounded like his voice.

Mary's face was tired and lined, her hair pulled back tighter than usual. This attack had been bad, so bad that the hospitals had called up everyone who could work. That was why this call was coming from her and not from one of the people guarding the blast doors.

"I don't know," she said simply. "He's in surgery now. JD, too. Ezra's pretty bad, but not critical, and Nathan and Josiah are mostly banged up and bloody. They're working search and rescue, though, trying to get other survivors out."

Chris nodded, unable to speak: Buck was so bad that Mary couldn't even lie to him.

"I'll keep you posted," she promised, but the words were distracted, her attention on something past the communication console. "Got to go – new ones coming in." She clicked off and he was left staring at a black screen.

He was cold. Buck's last words, from earlier that morning, played on an endless loop in his head: 'Love you, Chris. Talk to you tonight when we get done with this mission.' They'd just barely gotten past the upheaval of the past several days, just gotten back to a common ground.

There was a buzz on his comm and he glanced down, hoping it was Mary. No such luck; the i.d. was Vin's.

He ignored it, and after a few seconds, it stopped.

He hadn't been there. Not that that would have made a difference, his team was one of the best. And even though they were short two men, almost every team out there was right now. The attrition was horrible.

He got up, walked around the room, restless.

Angry.

The comm buzzed again and he strode back to the desk. Vin, again, dammit. He almost opened it to yell at him, tell him to fuck off, to leave the unit free. But he didn't want to do even that. He turned away again, pacing more. All he could think of was Buck. JD was hurt too, bad, Ezra was concussed. The ship was lost, he knew. Not that it mattered; he doubted he'd ever have seen it again.

Buck.

He found himself standing still, staring at the random images of the screen-saver, drifting across the front of his monitor. Thinking about all the years he'd known Buck, all the things they'd shared. All the times Buck had stood by him, through Sarah and Adam and losing them, through this.

He couldn't be there for him, couldn't talk him through this, couldn't hold his hand, couldn't touch him –

He jerked when he heard the sound of the door sliding open, expecting to see orange radiation suits, thinking that it had happened, Buck had died and they were going to brave the dangers and tell him in person.

But the person who stepped through wasn't orange, even though he glowed a little yellow in the dimness.

He was so relieved that he didn't muster complete anger, just enough to snap, "Get the hell out of here! Ain't I got enough problems without you jerking my cock?"

Vin stared at him, his eyes hard, but his face was haggard, and his voice was flat as he said, "They're my friends, too. Figure don't neither one of us need to be alone."

He didn't come any closer, but he leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest.

'But then, you and Vin ain't never been much for talking. The two of you could sit for hours and say not one word to each other or anyone else, but you were happy with him.' Buck's words from not so long ago.

Chris sighed, crossing his own arms defensively. He was still angry, but it was being gnawed at by worry.

He stared at the monitor, willing them to call.

By the time they did, several hours later, he and Vin were both sitting on opposite sides of the room, Vin on the floor and Chris in his desk chair. They were both quiet, no words between them. But nothing had happened, and he thought maybe it was some sort of reward for that when Mary smiled tiredly at him, her words clear. "He's okay. Gonna hurt for a while, but he'll live. JD will too."

Chris nodded, the relief so strong he thought he might forget to breathe. "Can I . . ." It hurt to ask, to consider that he couldn't. He closed his eyes, his stomach tight with a sense of failure.

"I'll have a monitor set up as soon as he's awake, Chris," she answered quietly. "I promise."

"Thanks," he nodded, not opening his eyes, even as they leaked just a little.

"I'll be in touch," she murmured, and he heard the distinctive click of the network closing.

There was no sound, but he felt the shift in the air around him just before the tentative touch to his shoulder.

"Dammit," he muttered, but his throat closed and the word didn't quite come out, and his traitorous body turned into the strong arms of the only person who could touch him. There was a sort of tingle, like the shock but softer, and in its way, soothing. "Get away from me."

The words were garbled to the point that even he wondered if he'd said what he thought he had said, but Vin's answer was soft and sure.

"Ain't nothing gonna happen, Chris. I ain't gonna let it. They're all right, that's all that matters."

And for now, it was.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 16 months, 16.27 days fusion point.

Buck rolled to one side, trying to ignore the pull of the stitches in his shoulder, the bruises along his ribs and back. Mostly trying to ignore the thunder in his head. Concussion, Mary told him, serious head wound compounded by blood loss from the artery that had been ripped open when the ship had crashed and the frame had folded back on them. He'd been lucky to get out with his leg, luckier still to get out alive.

He owed Josiah his life. Again.

"Buck?"

He smiled. Chris.

"You awake? Buck?"

He opened his eyes, working on getting them to focus. It took him a few seconds to acclimate, not so much to the room, which he remembered, but to the memory of why he was looking at his lover on a monitor, not in person.

But the fear and the worry were real enough, shining through that connection. "I'm here, Chris," he mumbled, trying to lift a hand to wave at him.

His vision was blurry, his head still aching, but he saw the relief and joy wash across his lover's face, clear as sunshine. "Scared the fuck out of us this time," Chris said, and even though he tried to make it sound annoyed, Buck heard the fear in it.

"I'll try to do better next time," he mumbled, but smiled. "Everybody else all right?" He had a vague memory of JD and being worried, but it wouldn't quite come to the surface of his mind at the moment.

"Everybody you care about," Chris answered. "JD's in worse shape than you are, but he's gonna be all right."

Something caught in Buck's throat, and he choked out, "JD? How bad?" He was awake now, completely, the adrenalin dulling the pain.

"He's all right," Chris repeated, more slowly. "He's still in intensive care, but Josiah and Nathan are there now, and they both say he's doing fine. Mary says they're going to move him to his own room soon, just as soon as he's coherent for more than an hour."

The thing in his throat eased back a little and he could breathe enough to say, "Gonna heal all right? No major problems?"

Chris did smile then. "No, he's got all his parts and his memory seems to be working. Probably better than yours."

"Wouldn't be hard," Buck admitted, the throb returning as the adrenalin lessened.

"Do you remember what happened?"

He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander, putting together random pieces until he had the images: the fight, the ship being hit, Josiah trying to get it down . . . "Yeah," he sighed, opening his eyes. "I got it."

Chris was silent for so long that Buck actually worked through it all before realizing his lover was still there.

"How bad is it?" Chris asked, his voice soft, and Buck saw the anguish. He closed his eyes.

"The war?" he asked, hurting too much to really think about his answer here. "The Albies are desperate. They're sending in their big ships, now, and if we can knock them out, they'll have to stay out of our way for a while, hopefully long enough to rebuild our own fleet and resources."

"If we can knock them out?" Chris asked, his voice. "Why can't we do that?"

Buck felt the pull of sleep, the drugs rising in his system. "Don't know," he mumbled, just before he slipt into darkness. "Love you."

"Love you, too," he thought Chris said, but it could have been a dream.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
\+ 16 months, 21.99 days fusion point

Vin waited. And watched. He sat still on the far side of the room, behind the desk and monitor, his arms folded easily over this chest, his eyes half-closed as Chris paced back and forth in front of the door. So he could make a quick exit, Vin knew.

He would have smiled, even made some sort of teasing comment, had he not known that Chris would bolt out the door at the first sign of – well, anything that wasn't under Chris' control.

It was a sign of how serious this was, that Chris had come to him, come into his room.

Eventually, Chris sighed, his hands sliding nervously along the outer seam of his uniform pants. He didn't look at Vin, but his words were sharp and clear, his command voice. "I talked to Fowler. The war, they think they could put it in a stalemate if they could knock out the two battle-cruisers. Our intel says that they're the last two that the Albies have operating. If we can knock them out, they'll have to pull back, at least long enough for us to get our fleet back in force."

None of this was news to Vin – well, other than the fact that Chris had actually gone to Fowler for confirmation.

Which meant . . .

His eyes opened wider and he straightened, his stomach knotting. "No," he said softly, and even as the word passed his lips, he was on his feet. "That ain't even funny, Chris, in so many ways."

But Vin knew, and to his credit, Chris Larabee wasn't a coward. He stopped, swallowed, and looked up. His eyes were stark and desperate. "There are people dying out there, Vin, our people. Next time, Buck and JD might not be so lucky. We can do something to stop this. And we're the only two who can."

Vin stared at him, his mouth dry. The argument made sense, too much. He'd been trying not to think on it himself.

Trying not to remember how it had felt to have Chris' hands on him. To have someone, anyone, touch him.

"Vin," Chris said, his desperation hanging in the air between them, "you know how much I hate Fowler. But this . . . this is bigger than him. Bigger than us."

A small part of him, the part that wasn't shocked and maybe even terrified, wondered if Chris would be arguing so hard if someone other than Buck had been hurt in that battle. Maybe it wasn't important right now, but he was still angry about being blamed for everything that had happened before, and especially for Chris' rejection of him.

Angry for thinking about what they had done and wanting it again.

"Vin?" Chris asked, and he had the nerve to take a step closer. "Fowler can explain it to you, if you want, or Mary, or –"

"I ain't stupid," he heard himself say, even as that strange thrum started somewhere low in his belly and his skin prickled slightly. "You're just barely speaking to me now, Chris. What the hell are you gonna be like if we do it again? And Buck – I don't look to be on the wrong end of his temper, he's my friend too and we ain't got too many of those right now."

"At least he'll be alive to be pissed," Chris said softly. "Him and JD and Josiah and Nathan and Ezra – Vin, they need to knock out two Albie battle-cruisers. Under other circumstances, the three laser cannons wouldn't make a dent, but Fowler says that the Albies don't think we've got the power, and truth be told, we don't. Only you and I can do it, Vin. When we were together," he hesitated, swallowing, then rushed on, "the combination of the energy from us coming together seemed to . . . well, grow. Did Fowler talk to you about what happened?"

Vin shivered, partly at the words and partly at the way Chris was looking at him. At what he was suggesting. "Did you talk to Buck?" he countered, trying to step away. The wall was behind him, though, and he angled, working to keep the desk between them. The strange tension was coiling through him, the part that was not him but the radiation. It vibrated like an itch but more, not quite hurting but not feeling good. He had to get away from Chris before it took over, controlling his body more surely than he himself did. Like it had on the treadmill.

Chris stopped, and from the look on his face Vin knew it was the mention of Buck's name. He forced himself to talk now, hoping to give them both time to think. "I know what Fowler thinks, that our energies are just different enough to feed each other, and with the intensity of the . . . charge, I guess, from gettin' off, the two energies were at their best and just multiplied. Which is why if we do it together, and get off about the same time, then yeah, we could do a lot more than what we do when it's just one of us."

"Synergy," Chris said softly. "That's what he calls it." He took a step behind the desk.

"So why hasn't he been pushing this?" Vin asked, moving another step away. "If they think it's the only way, why isn't he the one in here demanding that I let you . . . " He stopped, unable to finish the thought. He wasn't interested in sex with Chris, or with any man.

He wasn't.

This thing that was beginning to stir in his groin was something else entirely, fucking radiation.

Chris took a deep breath. "He will be, in about three days," he said quietly. "And it'll be on their terms. He'll flood the vents with drugs to make us horny, lower our defenses, probably lace your food with something to lower your inhibitions, give me something to make me more aggressive. He says he didn't do that before, didn't do anything to bring about what happened last time. He might not have then. But he will soon, Vin. He said it."

Vin couldn't breathe, had to turn away. He didn't doubt Chris, not for an instant.

Nausea roiled through his gut, curbing the tension building lower, but not a lot.

"No," Chris said, his voice still soft, "I haven't talked to Buck, he's barely conscious, heavily medicated, still sleeping most of the time. He may never forgive me. But I can't go through this again, Vin, not if I have the power to stop it. I lost Sarah and Adam, and I almost lost Buck. This time – this time I can stop it. I can provide the means to save him, and maybe everybody else we give a damn about it. And you and me are the only two who can. So even if he never speaks to me again, at least he'll be alive to be angry at me."

At us, Vin amended in his head, one less person he cared about. Out loud, he said, "And if I don't want to?"

Chris didn't answer, and after a few seconds, the silence was answer enough. Vin pulled his arms more tightly around himself, willing his stomach to be stable.

"I won't hurt you," Chris murmured, "You can just lie there, with your eyes closed. Hell, Buck taught me everything I know, it'll be so good you won't know that it's not a woman –"

"Shut up," he spat, "just shut up." The shivering was worse now, a tremble that grew stronger as he heard Chris move closer, the tugging in his belly and balls more warning than the sounds.

He started to turn, to keep distance between them, but Chris was already there. His fingers were tight on Vin's shoulders, his breath warm against Vin's cheek, his chest strong against Vin's back. The simple contact shot a jolt through him, a current that reached deep into his body and his mind, scattering his resistance. He barely made out Chris' words, the pounding in his head, the thrum of the electricity and atomic karma between them driving out his ability to concentrate.

"Let me do this," he whispered, "let me do this for all of us."

It was too late, the need sparking through his body at the points where Chris was touching him, the vibration in his groin building to a true desire. But his rational mind held on for just a few more seconds, fighting this perverse want.

"Don't," he tried to pull away, to escape the contact. "Chris, please, don't –"

But a hand was already sliding down his chest, slow and easy, one thumb stroking over a nipple, then one practiced fingertip slipping into his belly button, swirling slowly inside it. Current shot through him in flashes of tantalizing sensation, stirring things that not even Charlotte had reached. At the same time, Chris pushed against him, and it was impossible to mistake the hard length of his erection bruising Vin's ass. There as no mistaking who he was with. Chris could talk the game all he wanted, but Vin knew that there would never be a chance for him to think that the person in his bed was anything other than a man, and that that man was Chris Larabee.

The thought repulsed him, made his ass clench and his hands want to rub at his hip, to wipe away the imprint of another man's cock on him.

But no matter what his mind wanted, his own body was still pulsing, blood flowing to all the wrong places, as if following the trail Chris was blazing.

The trail that was drifting slowly past the waistband of his sweatpants, toward the erection that was rising to meet it.

No. No no no – he managed to push away, pull himself free, and move out of reach long enough to turn to face the other man. He was breathing hard, harder than he should have been, and his head was clouded as if he were drugged already.

"Three days?" he said, his voice unfamiliar to his own ears, low and throaty with need. "You sure he ain't, or you ain't already set this game into play?"

"The radiation," Chris said, his eyes flaring with streaks of gold. "Whatever it is inside us wants this, just like it did before." His voice was low, warm as it twisted around in his head. "You want it," he looked down at Vin's groin, his gaze caressing. "You want me to touch you, to make you come."

Just the sound of those words alone almost did it, and his found himself gripping the edge of the desk to hold himself up. "Don't," he said, or tried to; it was so garbled that it came out as a moan.

Chris moved fast, and even though Vin moved, trying to dodge, he stumbled and found himself pressed up against the wall, Chris pinning him with his body. The full contact broke the last of his control, and he was barely able to hold his thoughts together.

Just like last time, the voice drifted through his mind, but it was faint and growing fainter as Chris hands pushed at his waistband, one hand closing on his cock.

"No," he said, thought he said, tried to say, "not again," but his mouth not longer worked for speech, too busy trying to keep air in his lungs. His own hands clutched Chris' biceps to try to stop this – until Chris' dick was against his, one of Chris' hands working them both at the same time, pressing them together and it was one of the best things he'd ever felt.

He gasped and panted, barely able to hear Chris' own terse words, "That's it, come on, Vin, let it happen, let it happen." His hips jerked with the rhythm Chris set, and he was barely aware of Chris' free hand sliding down his back and pushing his sweat pants down as those knowing fingers stroked his ass, barely aware of the kneading at his flexing muscle, barely aware of anything except the building orgasm – until two of those fingers slipped into the cleft and started downward.

He arched back, trying to draw out of reach of the exploration, but the angle gave him more sensation in the front, bringing him closer to release.

"Shhhh," Chris murmured against his ear, "not gonna hurt you, almost there," and while he might have been talking about release, he might also have meant the spare second before he brushed over the small opening that drew tight defensively. "You're gonna come so hard," he promised, "like nothing you ever felt before."

A strong pull on his cock distracted him, sweat and precum smearing as they slid together wonderfully, so that he barely had time to register the penetration until Chris' slim finger was pushing into him, sending arcs of repellant pleasure through him.

"No, oh, god, no, Chris," he was babbling, his mouth as far away from his control as the hands doing these things to him, then Chris' mouth was at his throat, sucking and biting, his upper body braced against the wall, supporting them both as he was pushed and pulled between mirror motions until Chris touched something inside and his body seemed to shatter and everything went white.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
16 month, 25.34 days fusion point

"I'm all right, Buck," JD said, but it was so soft that Buck leaned closer over the bed. "Today's the day you're getting out of here," JD continued, his eyes bright with the pain killers he was on.

"Just out of that bed," Buck agreed. "You know I ain't going far away from you, boy, gotta teach you how to treat all these nice people taking care of you."

JD smiled up at him, but then winced. His hands dug into the mattress of the hospital bed as he tried to shift, and Buck reached out quickly, catching his hips.

"Hang on, JD," he said, carefully lifting and easing his friend over a little. "You ain't supposed to be doing that on your own yet."

"Been ten days," JD murmured, but he sighed, slowly relaxing back into the bed. "I'm ready for this to be done."

"I know you are," Buck soothed, one hand lightly patting JD's shoulder as he drew back up. "Rather it were me in that bed."

JD was fading in and out, his eyes blinking as he tried to stay awake and focused. "I'm all right," he repeated, his words slurred. "You worry too much."

Buck grinned, but his voice was soft as he said, "You go on to sleep. I'll check back later this afternoon."

JD made as if to argue, but the drugs finally caught up and he was under, only a sigh passing his lips.

Buck leaned on the railing of the bed, trying not to think about how true his words had been. He would rather have been in JD's place, not just to save the kid the pain of healing after almost dying, but to save himself from a different sort of pain.

'I'll do whatever I have to, Buck, but I'm not going to stand by and do nothing while they hurt the people I care about.'

He hadn't been surprised at the words, not really. The first time he'd heard them, he's been half aware, lost in his own pain-and-drug-induced numbness.

It had taken the third rendering to finally make sense, that and the sadness on Chris' face.

The silence from Vin.

He'd made it almost a day before the pain of it had become too much and he'd reactivated his comm and called Chris. It hadn't taken long for the anger to return, and he'd ended the call with the two of them yelling at each other and Mizo, the night-duty nurse, taking the comm unit out of the room.

They'd given it back, but only under the promise that he would take it easy. He'd talked to Chris since then, short conversations, nothing important said about them or about Vin. It'd been bizarre, this distance between them, this sudden filter on the words that had always come so easily.

Last night, he'd tried to call Vin.

It had been a relief when the other man hadn't answered.

"Buck?"

He looked up to find Josiah standing just inside the door of JD's room, his pale eyes concerned.

"He's sleeping," Buck said softly, adjusting the sheet covering his friend. "Lot of pain."

Josiah stepped farther into the room, looking down at JD as well. "Being alive hurts," the older man said quietly. "I doubt I have to tell you that right now."

Buck knew he wasn't referring only to the bandage wrapped around his head or the cane he'd be using for a while yet. "You talked to Vin lately?" he asked, not looking up from JD.

"Went by last night," Josiah answered. "He's not real sociable right now."

He spoke without thinking, not wanting to feel the sympathy Josiah was trying to force on him. "Guess he's got all the company he could want."

Josiah waited a few seconds, then said, still quietly, "No, he's got all the company you want, Buck. It's far from the company he wants."

It was a mild reminder, but a reminder nonetheless. Buck sighed, shifting his balance. His leg was starting to hurt.

"You ready to get out of here?" Josiah asked.

He was, but the thought of returning to the room that he had shared with Chris was once more unappealing. This was getting old, this whole thing.

"You up for some lunch?" he asked, looking at the other man. "I'm buying."

Josiah grinned at him, reading his mind. "With enough salsa, even the same old rations can be made to taste good."

It was delaying the inevitable, but for the moment, he'd take it.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;  
16 months, 29.37 days fusion point

"Is there a problem, Tanner?"

Vin swallowed, staring at the man before him, willing his mouth to work. "What are you doing to me?"

Cletus Fowler tilted his head to one side, not smiling but not angry either. He used two fingers to take the cigar from his mouth then said, "Trying to help you," he answered. "Trying to make this easier for you to accept."

"By forcing me?" he asked, or tried to. His mouth was dry, one of the many side effects from the drugs he knew Fowler was giving him. Once he'd realized he what was happening, he had tried not to eat or drink, but Fowler had put the chemicals in the air; when things had gotten progressively worse for them both, he'd told them that if they'd stop fighting – if Vin would stop fighting, since Chris was already completely on board with the plan, then he'd make sure they only got the ones they needed, not a complete range of everything.

"No one's forcing you, not in a literal sense," Fowler said calmly. "I understand that you're not welcoming this with open arms, but the truth of the matter is that it has to be done, and this way seems to be effective for the moment. Larabee doesn't have the stomach for making you do it, and we can't seem to prevail upon your sense of duty or responsibility, so I have authorized a series of measures that will lessen your concerns on the issue."

Vin tried to swallow again, but there was barely enough spit.

"You should drink more water," Fowler said. "The side effects will be more tolerable."

Anger tried to catch in him, a spark at the far back of his mind, but it was like wet tinder trying to take fire, more smoke than heat. It had been the thing he'd held on to, this anger, to try to keep Chris away, to try to hate them for what they were doing to him. It had been the first thing Fowler's drugs had taken.

Fowler studied him for a few seconds. "I don't envy you," he said, rolling his cigar between his fingers. "I imagine this must be quite confusing for you, to find physical pleasure with another man, a close friend even. Perhaps with pharmaceutical assistance, you can have a certain peace of mind."

"Fuck you," he said, but just getting the words out seemed to use all his energy.

"You know, Lieutenant Tanner," Fowler went on after another pause, his voice a little tighter, "the drugs are good, and they're strong, damned strong. Have to be to get through the radiation your bodies are producing. But they can't make you change something as fundamental as sexuality. The radiation itself might have, if you subscribe to the theory that who and what arouses you is tied to your DNA." He put the cigar back in his mouth, his eyes calm as they met Vin's. "Maybe you should stop fighting so hard. You don't have much to enjoy right now, Tanner, but I think if it were me, I'd hang on to what little pleasure I could have."

"Kinda hard to trust a man who gets more out of me gettin' off than I do," he managed to say.

Fowler shook his head. "You say that like I'm personally receiving money or benefits from what the two of you are doing. I'm not, Tanner. The only thing I'm getting is the same thing everybody left on this planet is getting: the possibility of another day of living free of Albie enslavement." He shrugged. "That and the joy of you fighting it every step of the way, of watching you destroy yourself and your friendships with your team members, while ignoring the fact that you and Larabee are the only two people who can offer this planet any hope of survival."

Vin wanted to say something, to find a way to deny it, but even as the words started forming, he thought of his last talk with JD and how he had looked, pale and slender, and wrapped in bandages, barely able to move in the hospital bed. The kid's voice faded in and out as he declared his support of Vin and how horrible it was for him and for Chris, all the while the machines hummed and beeped in the background, keeping him from feeling pain.

Machines that were working because of him, and Chris, and what they did together.

If JD ever made that connection . . .

"Sit down, Tanner," Fowler's voice cut through the haze in his head. "You don't look well."

There was a chime, Chris at the door. Something flipped in his belly, nerves, he had told himself, but it seemed to be more like want, now, more like what it had been when he knew it was Charlotte on the other side.

"Vin?" Chris called, his voice muffled by the walls between them. "You all right?"

He gripped the edge of the table, light-headed. "Leave me alone," he croaked, not sure where he could go.

"Tanner," Fowler's voice sounded sharp in his ears, "take your pleasure where you can get it."

"Vin?" Chris' voice was louder now, and he saw the doors to his room opening, even though he was certain he had locked them.

He looked around, trying to find something to put between them, some way, any way, to keep Chris from touching him. But it was already too late.

"Vin," Chris arms were warm around him, holding him. "It's all right."

He stomach flipped again, flutters following. The attraction, he told himself, the physical one. But even as he tried to convince himself, something else settled in him, his body relaxing against the one behind it.

Chris was talking, his voice loud and irritated but Vin couldn't make out words, only the short, even cadence of Fowler's voice and a long snarl that was unmistakably from Chris. Then there was silence except for whispers against his hair and the rushing of blood through his veins as his body heated up. Eventually, as the radiation took control, drawn to Chris like air into a vacuum, some of his senses cleared. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see, but he couldn't stop his brain from finally understanding the plea.

" . . . Buck hasn't called me. I can't do it, not by myself, Vin, you've got to help me, please, just… please . . . "

He didn't open his eyes, just leaned against Chris more. "Fowler's drugging us, Chris, he's making us do this."

"Don't matter right now," Chris said, one of his hands rubbing over Vin's belly through the thin cloth of his under shirt. "We only got to do it a little longer, until the war's over. But it's got to be good this time, Vin, got to be stronger. I can't do it all. You got to want it, got to help me."

The press of a hard cock against his hip didn't suggest that Chris needed help, but Vin knew that last time had been less successful, for Chris, anyway. Vin had been as helpless as he always was when Chris focused his sexual attention on him, unable to stop his body from doing exactly what Chris wanted.

But Chris hadn't been as excited, and it had taken him longer to reach orgasm. Too long. Their combined energy hadn't been nearly enough, so they were having to do it again.

Vin had lost count of how many times they had had to 'do it again', but then he'd lost track of time now what with all the drugs.

Chris' hand was slipping lower now, going straight to the growing swell of Vin's groin.

"Help me," Chris said into Vin's neck, "help me make this good for both of us."

'Make this good'.

He wanted it to be good… wanted it to be the last time… wanted not to fear this man. The flutters in his stomach would go away, the want for Chris would go away, it had to.

He wanted not to live in this mire of confusion and desperation and self-doubt.

He didn't say anything, but Chris knew. His hand pressed harder, drawing Vin's erection to fullness as his own dug deeper into Vin's hip.

The need was building, fast and deep like it always did, so that he lost himself to it, giving himself over to Chris. But that wasn't enough, not this time. Chris' groan pulled him out of the acceptance just before the hand pulling at him was gone, leaving behind an ache that went bone-deep.

"You're close," Chris panted in his ear, "but I'm not, and we need it to be together."

"What do you want?" Vin asked, his head clearing now that his blood was boiling. He reached back, moving his hand between them to grip the cock he knew almost as well as his own; strange that the thought no longer scared him as much as it had just days - or was it minutes? - before.

Chris' breath caught at the touch and he gave a little noise. Then one of Chris' hands caught Vin's, pulling and guiding him past the loose cloth of the workout pants and down to bare skin.

The heat rose higher between them, bare skin to bare skin bringing Chris closer, but almost putting Vin over the edge. Chris guided the play, and while he put his hand back to its own work on Vin, he kept the boundary of Vin's clothes between them. 'Like a firecracker,' Chris had said, and until now, Vin had been glad that his body was so fast in this, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

But it wasn't the way Chris needed it, not if they were to end this forced relationship, and Chris was walking the line between keeping Vin going but not going too far.

A handjob alone wasn't going to do it either, Vin realized when it was clear that Chris' desire had reached a plateau.

"You're close," Chris whispered; it wasn't a question. "Come here."

He turned Vin, drawing his hand away and his arm from its awkward angle. Vin hardly had time to register the relief of it before he was bent backwards, his lower body trapped between his damnable, useless desk, and this man who had become his reluctant lover.

His hands framed Vin's face, keeping his lips parted and his jaw braced open by the pressure of Chris' thumbs at the hinges. Chris stared into his eyes, willing him to submission, to surrender his control.

"Suck me," Chris ordered, the words blowing over Vin's face. "Won't take much, probably just your tongue on it will put me right over, it's been so long. Need to feel something other than your hand, Vin, please."

It wasn't what Vin had been expecting and it surprised him. Before he could get his mind on it, Chris was on top of him, biting at his throat, marking him, his hands guiding Vin's head where he wanted so he could claim the flesh he'd already bruised.

Vin struggled, trying to get his arms between them, to push Chris off, but Chris pulled back again, staring straight into his eyes. "Won't take much," he repeated, his hands even tighter around Vin's head, the muscles of his forearms tensing, "just a few licks, take it in your mouth, you got a pretty mouth, almost as sexy as Buck's"

Chris rambled on, but Vin wasn't listening, his concentration beginning to fray so that all he could focus on was the idea of putting another man's dick in his mouth.

Chris', a little voice rang out, it's Chris', but the flutter in his stomach had turned to nausea, bile crawling up his throat to his mouth.

Chris was backing away, drawing him up but just as quickly pushing him down, wanting him on his knees, wanting him to –

"No," he finally managed to say, "not that, no – wait, Chris!" He pushed at Chris' chest, trying to stop the demand, trying to break the hold. It didn't work; the drugs made him weak, Chris' touch made him weak, but something in the sound of his voice must have gotten through the single-mindedness in Chris, because he stopped pushing.

"Vin," he said, his voice as thin as Vin's, "I gotta have something, I can't – "

"I know," Vin cut him off, closing his eyes. "I know, just, not, not that." He tried to think, but it was useless; his own need was hurting, not just in his groin but in his very skin, the attraction between them craving the connection with Chris, his physical body on the sharp edge between two different kinds of pain.

Chris shifted, his fingers flexing as if he would push again, and Vin swallowed. His hands shook as he moved them to his waistband; even through his eyelids, he could see the green and gold flash of Chris' gaze as he tracked the movement.

Chris went completely still, not even breathing, when he realized what Vin was offering. But the low-level hum that vibrated through the space between them, palpable in the gathering of lust, grew louder in Vin's head.

He managed to slip the pants down to his thighs, his erection bouncing against his belly and temporarily curbed by the exposure to the cooler air.

"You sure?" Chris asked, one of his hands already moving to the pocket of his pants, fumbling for something.

No, he wasn't sure, he didn't want any of it, but the protest died before his mouth, 'almost as sexy as Buck's,' could form it, lost in the fingers Chris shoved past his teeth.

"Swallow," Chris commanded, and even as he wondered what in the hell this was about, he did as he was bid, wondering if this was what Chris planned to do to slick him. He shivered, sweat growing cold at the idea of what was about to happen, then felt something sliding down his throat.

Chris's fingers were already gone. "Make it easier," he said, "won't take long." His hands settled on Vin's upper arms before he was turned again, and bent over his own desk.

It didn't take long; lethargy spread from his belly out, his muscles relaxing to the point that his arms folded under him, not bearing his weight against the force of Chris' wish. Chris placed him, head down and turned with the right side of his face against the cool metal of the uncluttered desk top, his back curved so that his ass rose into the air.

"God," Chris murmured, his hands stroking over Vin's body, pushing the shirt up to his shoulders then the workout pants down to the floor. Exposing him, he thought, and he knew he should feel shame or fear or anger, but nothing came. Not only was his body no longer his, neither was his mind.

From there, the pieces of himself scattered more. He had flashes of awareness, of Chris stroking him, the grip strong and demanding, of something wet and thick dripping onto his back and oozing into the virgin space between his legs, of Chris touching him in his most private place, fingers sliding in as they had before, but deeper and wider, stretching.

Of pain as something wide and big pushed against him, trying to get in. He twisted, tried to, but his body was heavy and dull, the effort doing little more than shifting the invader upward, so that it slid burningly along the cleft of his ass. The pain was distant but distracting enough to turn the tide on his own need, so that the rough pulling on his cock lost its influence, his erection fading.

"Dammit," he heard Chris grunt, "come on, Vin," but the more Chris tried, the less Vin's body responded.

Not that it stopped the strange currents of energy pulling between them, but it did seem to slow them.

Chris drew back, shifting even as his hand moved more pleasantly over Vin's groin. The thrill started building again, but it was slower and weaker now, not with the intensity of before – any of the times before. The drugs, he thought, with a certain vindictive pleasure.

When the orgasm came, it washed through him like a tide, a release that wasn't so much a climax as a relief. He felt the energy expulsion, heard Chris whimper and curse. The grinding against him intensified, knocking him against his desk. He knew he'd have bruises in the morning and be sore from this, but not in the way he feared most, as Chris had never managed the penetration.

Chris grunted, pushed hard against him again, then locked, his body rigid. The air around them rippled, his skin buzzed, and his insides grated, like sand between two rocks.

But the sound of one word hung in the air, stabbing deep into his mind as it echoed through him, Chris' voice rich with bitterness: "Buck!"

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
+16 months, 32.02 days fusion point

"Performance issues?" Buck stared at the other man, the irony of it almost more than he could bear, and way more than he could contain, even if he'd wanted to. "You're having performance issues?"

So much for keeping things nice and neutral between them. This was going to be a short call, he thought, already leaning forward to slap the connection closed. He should never have come back to the room this early, or he should have gone to bed as soon as he'd had the chance. Chris hadn't taken to waking him from sleep yet, and he could fake it long enough to be left alone.

Chris' jaw tightened, but he held his temper. Something in his eyes worried at Buck, but he was too upset to consider it right now. "Buck, please –"

"What," he snarled, "Vin ain't hot enough for you? Or ain't he let you fuck him yet – or he won't fuck you? That it, Chris?" He cackled, a sound he usually reserved for when he was truly happy, not when he was feeling vengeful.

Chris looked down, and Buck saw his eye twitching slightly. But his lover – no, he caught himself, Vin's lover, just someone Buck used to know well, spoke calmly, his temper reined. "Could be that I'm not in love with him and he's not in love with me."

Buck snorted. The response was right on the tip of his tongue, ready for delivery, when Chris continued just as casually, "Could be that trying to do him, trying to do me, and trying to think only of you is one thing too many to be trying." Chris was looking at him, those eyes tired but something dark behind them that Buck ignored.

He tried to hold onto the anger. Dammit, he had every right to be upset. He did. "Trying to think of me?" he asked. "Maybe if you stopped, you wouldn't be having this little performance issue – "

"You're right," Chris cut in. "I wouldn't be able to do anything at all."

Buck glared at him, wishing they were in the same room so he could hit him, wrap his hands around his throat, slam him up against a wall, kiss him –

"If it weren't for this damned radiation thing, I wouldn't have any attraction to him at all. Buck, how long have you known me? Him? He's my closest friend, but he's not you. He's not the person I want to sleep with. He's not the one I'm in love with. You are. Touching him . . . it doesn't work for either of us, not like that. It's all in the radiation, that's all."

It seemed like he'd been hearing that forever, even though it'd only been about ten days. Ten days since he'd awakened in the hospital to the elation of the staff and people around him, to the news that some miracle had happened and the major cannons had been active. One of the Albie battle cruisers had been blown out of the sky, taking with it a third of the Albie fleet. He hadn't truly realized the importance of it until he and Josiah had left the hospital and gone to lunch, gone out into the public.

The enthusiasm and happiness of the people around them, the survivors, had been contagious, and for a while, he'd allowed himself to share in it. Until they'd returned to the complex and he'd remembered why they'd been so successful this time.

"You're not blaming this one on me," he said flatly, but even as he did, he knew it was not Chris who would do it, it was himself.

Chris didn't say anything, he didn't have to.

When the silence was too heavy, Buck sighed, scratching at his head, despite the bandage still wrapped tightly around it. "What do you want from me?" he mumbled, wishing he had some sort of self control.

Chris waited a few more seconds before answering softly, "I need you to be with me."

Buck frowned, wondering if Mary was wrong and he had some worse head problem than she though. "I don't understand."

Chris nodded, taking a deep breath. "I need you to be with me. I need to see you. Hear you."

It took another few seconds, but it finally permeated the density of his head. "You want me to watch the two of you have sex."

Chris had the good grace to blush, and Buck knew the other man hadn't thought of it quite that way. But he didn't break eye contact, nor did he deny. Instead, answered, "I want you to do what we've been doing. I want to have sex with you."

Buck swallowed. "But with Vin in the room with you."

He watched the play of Chris' eyes, knew that his lover had already thought of this, but was having a hard time getting it out of his mouth.

It was the first moment of victory he felt he'd had in this whole mess.

And it hurt like hell. It was a surprise, actually; he'd thought he was beyond being able to feel anything about this.

"You can have someone in the room with you. If you want to."

Not only could he feel, he could feel worse. The simple words cut through him with their implication that Chris would relinquish his possession, his jealous control and dominance.

He jerked, his fury returning so fast that it almost made him dizzy.

"I'd prefer if you keep the light low, though," Chris continued, his gaze now directed away, his voice rough. "And I don't want to know who it is. I just want you, Buck, just you."

He'd seen Chris cry, even recently, in the frustration of all of this. But seeing it now, watching him fall apart, it stopped every reaction Buck could have had. It was too fast, too close. When they'd started this damnable conversation, Chris had been up, more up than Buck had seen since before it all went to hell.

"Now, Chris," he sighed, "damn it, why – "

"I want this war to be over," Chris said, his voice rasping worse than Vin's. "I want you safe, and the others. I want the damned geniuses to spend their time getting us fixed and out of here. None of that is going to happen as long as the Albies are attacking us."

It was so simple when he said it like that, with the complete conviction that Chris Larabee had when he made a decision and made everyone else bend to it.

And Buck knew in that instant just how completely Chris would bend everyone else. "You talked to Vin about any of this?"

Chris wiped at his face. "He ain't really got a say in this."

The easy disregard of it burned in his gut, but worse, it pushed the alarms in his head from a low-level hum to a mid-level ringing. "That don't seem rightly fair," he said, a small part of him wondering how exactly he had come to be Vin's defender suddenly.

"Ain't one damned part of this fair," Chris breathed, "ain't fair that I'm in here and you're out there, that the Albies started this and won't leave us alone, that Vin and me are the only two who can do anything about it and what we have to do is on the wrong side of every single decent thing and most of the wrong ones. But fairness ain't the issue, surviving is, and getting us out of here so we can be together – if you'll still have me."

The implicit question was still too big to answer, so he didn't. Instead, he countered, "Vin has a say in this. What I think is you need to talk to him before you start inviting me and anyone out in the street to this party."

Chris watched him, his face impassive for a few seconds, before he reached for the keyboard.

It took a few tries; Vin didn't seem to want to answer and it wasn't until Chris growled an actual warning that he was going to come get him that Buck's monitor screen split, resolving into Chris' face on one side and Vin's on the other.

The instant hostility rushed to the front of his brain, and Buck found himself glaring at the new arrival, barely checking the desire to put his fist through the screen.

But an actual look at Vin gave him pause. 'Drugged,' he thought first, then 'suicidal', his mind searching for memories of how Vin had looked before his attempt. But he hadn't seen Vin then, in that short time; it had been only a few hours between the conversation with Charlotte and the breaking of the ceramic plate, and Buck had been with the others on a mission.

Chris took control, his voice flat. "Fowler thinks we're almost done, maybe two, three more times. I want – I need for Buck to be involved."

Vin blinked, his own eyes moving slow, almost lazily, between them before he spoke. "He can take my place."

It was supposed to be funny, but the strain in his voice was real, as was desperation.

Buck swallowed. "Vin, you all right?"

The blue eyes glittered as they met Buck's, looking wild and fierce and about as desperate as Chris'. "Want out of here."

Buck nodded, wary. "I know," he agreed. "You all right with all the rest of it?"

Vin stared at him, as if he didn't understand the question.

"Vin!" Chris snapped, making Buck flinch. "Wake up!"

Vin's eyes dropped and he mumbled, "Yeah, whatever it takes."

Something awful crept into Buck's thoughts, and he turned to Chris, not able to put words to it.

Chris glared, but after a few seconds, his temper cooled. "Told you," he said, his tone softer, "he don't like it. I don't like it. We just want to get out of here, Buck, and if this is what we got to do to do it, then it's what we do. Don't want anything happening to anybody else we care about, right, Vin?"

"Wh'ever it takes," Vin mumbled again, like it was a mantra.

Buck shivered, wondering how close to madness he was.

How close to madness they both were.

Chris' voice was even softer now, gentle. "He doesn't know how to deal with it, liking it. I'm not hurting him. He don't get off on it. Do you, Vin?"

Vin shook his head, once, his hair loose and tangled and dragging against the fraying cloth of his shirt.

Buck swallowed again, his heart beating a little faster now. "How many times have you . . ." The question died as Vin visibly shuddered, his shoulders hunching.

"You don't know?" Chris said, no sarcasm in his voice. "Too many. The last time almost didn't happen. That's why I need you, Buck. Guess we're getting used to the attraction. I am, anyway. Vin still goes up like a firecracker when I touch him, Fowler says that changing his ionization made him more influenced by mine than mine by his. All I gotta do is focus my attention on him and get my hands on him, and he's ready to go. Maybe not as willing. Have to chase him around his room almost every time, fight him to get my hands on him long enough to make him want it."

Buck wasn't aware of gripping the arm of the chair until it finally cracked, the wood giving way. It hadn't been that long – just days, yet they were both bordering on something black and dangerous.

Chris rambled on, his voice light. "Don't need but a couple more times, Buck, maybe three. One more big ship, Fowler thinks, says it might be expecting us to have the cannons this time, since we did last time, but the great minds have figured out some other things that might work, so they need more energy than before. We've already stored up one cannon, but they have two more that need to be operational. Then some reserves. So three, at the most. We could even cut that down some, I guess, if you and me, Buck, if we can spend some time – how are you feeling? How's your head? And the leg, how's the leg? Is it too soon for you to be having sex? Don't want you to be hurting, I can maybe get Vin to stop playing so hard to get, Fowler says he has some more drugs, some stronger ones that will help him like it more . . ."

The words went on, but Buck couldn't make them register. The behavior was extreme, confirmation that something else was at play. He needed to talk to Mary and Terry; Fowler, too, except that he was afraid he'd kill the bastard.

"Buck?"

He jerked his attention back to the monitor to find Chris frowning, his eyes bright with annoyance and Vin still hunched, his face turned away and hidden by his hair.

"You all right?" Chris demanded, his tone harder now.

"Yeah, Chris, sorry," he said without thinking. "Just a headache. Guess I ain't all here yet. Mary says they'll come and go for a while."

Chris' frown deepened. "It is too soon. I shouldn't be bothering you with this."

"No, no," Buck rushed, all of his previous anger gone in the face of this revelation. "But I do think I need a little rest right now. Reckon you and Vin could use some too, Vin? You still with us?"

Vin made a little noise, his head seeming to move in the shadows.

"He's fine," Chris said, impatient. "You go on, Buck, get better. We'll manage without you, have so far."

Vin jerked a little at the words, stepping backward and out of the camera's lens.

"Now, Chris, you just hang on for a little while," Buck rushed. "Won't take me but a little while, just a quick nap. You leave Vin alone for right now, no use pushing something too fast, right?"

Chris shrugged, frowning again. "We'll do whatever it takes, Buck. Fowler wants it as soon as possible, says that he's not sure when the Albies will attack again. Might be soon. Need to be ready. Vin likes it, too much maybe. Scares him. Keep telling him you taught me everything you know."

For the first time in his life, Buck regretted ever using those words. "You leave him be, Chris, let him have a rest too. Be better for all of us if we're all rested up." He smiled, hoping he didn't sound as stupid as he thought he did.

Chris arched one eyebrow. "You telling me what to do, Buck?"

There was a small sound in the background, and Buck thought it might have been Vin, but he didn't let himself wonder, not now. "Now, Chris, I just want it to be good for all of us. Been a while since I been able to see you. Don't want you too tuckered out when we get the chance."

Chris' expression didn't waver, but something seemed to slowly change. After a few seconds, he said, "I hear you. You get some rest."

The connection went dead, both of them, leaving Buck staring stupidly at an empty screen.

He didn't have time to get his head together though; before he could formulate who to talk to and how to ask, the tinny chime of the suite door sounded. Ezra, he thought, even as he had a vague recall of the other man mentioning some job.

"Who changed the fucking code?" he snarled as he moved into the common room, slapping at the door release. But as the door slid open, he saw a stranger on the other side.

He was slender, his hair cut regulation short, his uniform clean and pressed but not perfect. He smiled affably at Buck, looking up at him with dark eyes. "Captain Wilmington?"

Buck stared at him for just a few seconds before answering, "Yeah, but this ain't the best time. I've got to find – "

"I'm afraid that Dr. Travis and Dr. Greer are not available at the moment. They've both been reassigned to the trauma centers, where they are really needed right now. We've all got to do our best for the war effort."

It took Buck several more seconds to make all the connections. When he did, his first instinct was to punch this guy in the face.

"Blackfox," the man said, oblivious to his imminent hurt, "Lieutenant John Blackfox. Can we talk?"

"You work for Fowler?" Buck said, amazed at how even his voice came out. "He send you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do and he did." Blackfox smiled.

It was probably that easy expression on his face that blew Buck's control.

He wasn't really aware of grabbing the guy's collar or jerking him into the common room or twisting him around so that he was bent backwards over the table. He was just suddenly aware of those eyes looking up at him, as wide as Vin's had ever been, the man's fingers digging into his wrists as Blackfox tried to loosen Buck's choke hold on him.

"Whoa! Hang on," Blackfox wheezed, "just wait a second!"

"What the hell has Fowler done to them?" Buck spat, tightening his fists even more. He was academically aware of the other man's face starting to turn a deep red color, but he was far more intent on the words coming from his mouth.

"Dr. Fowler is trying to help them," Blackfox said, "trying to make it easier! Let me up, let me breathe –"

"Buck!"

Dark hands appeared to cover his own, a long, hard body pressed up against his back, and then Nathan's voice in his ear, strong and worried.

"Let go of him!"

The fact that Blackfox was turning purple, a nice contrast to Nathan's brown skin, was almost enough to distract him, but Nathan was persistent and his tone was sharp as he continued, "Dammit, Buck! This ain't gonna help Chris!"

It must be love, he thought as he let Nathan pull his hands away. Nathan pulled him back, so that Blackfox rolled to one side, gasping, then fell to his knees on the floor. Nathan dropped next to him, checking his vitals while Buck watched, the rage rolling through him in waves that took his own breath.

"You want me to call for help?" Nathan asked Blackfox. He glanced up at Buck, his face stormy. "Medical or – otherwise?"

But Blackfox was shaking his head, even as he coughed out, "No, no, just a little . . . misunderstanding."

"Little, my ass," Buck seethed, thinking about wrapping his fingers once more around Blackfox's neck.

"Just calm down, Buck," Nathan ordered, pushing himself up. "What the hell is going on?"

"Have you talked to Chris or Vin lately? In the past several days?"

Nathan inhaled deeply, looking from Buck to Blackfox and back, before saying, "I talked to Vin two days ago. He was all right, a little out of it, but all right. I tried yesterday and he didn't answer." He hesitated, then said evenly, "He's worse?"

Buck turned on him, his surprise just barely containing his anger. "You knew? And you didn't –"

"What, Buck? What do you want me to do?" Nathan's voice was as loud as Buck's now, his own hands waving in the air. "Let Vin go through this tense and alone? What the hell difference does it make if I knew – what the hell could I do? What the hell can any of us do?"

And there it was, the cold shower drenching his fury. He stood, trying to wrap his mind around the question, trying to find the answer.

As he stood, Blackfox struggled to his feet, clearing his throat. "Dr. Fowler understands how frustrating this situation is. He sent me to try to explain –"

"Explain it," Buck found his voice finally. "Yeah, you do that. Explain to me why Fowler pulled Mary and Terry off this project."

Blackfox had the good sense to back up several steps, putting more distance between him and Buck, but it was Nathan who turned and snapped, "What? He pulled Dr. Travis?"

"She was needed – at the hospital!" Blackfox said, holding up his hands defensively. "We're at war, remember? These last attacks have been terrible!"

"Yeah, we know," Nathan said shortly. "We've been there."

"Oh, of course," Blackfox said, "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise! But the thing is, you know how bad it is, probably worse that I do. I mean, Captain Wilmington, you were just released from the hospital – and your friend JD is still here, and – "

"What's your point?" Buck snarled, one foot moving forward as he shifted his weight.

Blackfox's eyes got wider, but to his credit, he didn't back away. He stood a little straighter and said, "I'm here to talk to you about the Larabee-Tanner project. Do you want to hear what I have to say? Captain Wilmington, this is not a threat, but you seriously need to consider how involved you want to be with this. Dr. Fowler wants your involvement and your help, but given how difficult that might be for you, this is your chance to shut yourself out now and be done with it."

'Be done with it'.

He knew what the words meant, and one part of him actually listened, thinking seriously about it. It had been so long, and there was looking to be no end in sight. Chris had already slept with Vin, was sleeping with Vin, despite everything Buck had sacrificed.

And now Fowler was in complete control.

The words came from deep inside, from a place as dark and cold as the place Chris was in. "Then I'm done with it."

As he turned, he caught a flash of Nathan, slack-jawed and stunned, heard Blackfox sputter, "But, that's not what you're supposed to do! Dr. Fowler said you'd never - "

The sounds of the two men calling to him were muted as the door to his quarters slid shut, then silenced completely as the crash of his comm unit breaking into a million pieces echoed through their quarters.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
+16 months, 34.18 days fusion point

Ezra shuffled the cards patiently, pretending not to notice that Buck was pacing, that Josiah wasn't really reading his book, and Nathan wasn't really watching the news feed. Three and a half days more or less. He really wished he'd been able to get Nathan and Josiah to bet on it, but it had been perhaps less than couth, and Josiah's disappointed expression had been even worse than Nathan's derision.

It wasn't as if any of them had actually thought Buck would maintain his abandonment of Chris, or Vin. It wasn't possible for a man of Buck's character to stay angry long enough to end a long-term friendship and relationship, and certainly not under these conditions.

Now, it was just a matter of Buck arriving at the conclusion himself and admitting to it.

"He talked to y'all?" Buck asked after a while, his pacing alternating with long stops in front of the window, staring across the valley to the research complex where Chris and Vin were kept.

Ezra glanced to his teammates, ready to let one of them take the lead in the conversation. As he expected, Josiah took up the topic.

"Chris? Or Vin?"

Chris had called them all. Vin had called none of them, and nor had he returned any of their calls. Ezra had gone over to the complex itself, tried to get Vin to at least come into the visiting room, but Merric, the aid on duty that night, had shaken his head at Ezra when Vin had refused.

"Fowler," Buck answered shortly. "He talked to any of you about – all of this?"

Josiah studied Buck for just a few seconds before saying quietly, "You know he did, Buck. He can't keep them in complete isolation and have them stay sane."

"That what he wants, to keep them sane? Seems to be it'd be easier for him if they were both crazy, where he could keep them hyped up on drugs and sex and power the whole fucking world."

Josiah looked back down to his book, but his words were clear. "He talked to you, Buck?"

Buck laughed, one short, unhappy sound. "He's tried. Got several messages from him to call or to call Blackfox. I'm guessing things ain't going as well as he'd like."

"Why don't you talk to one of them?" Josiah suggested. "Maybe they can answer your questions."

"Did he answer yours?" Buck asked coldly. "Or did he just tell you that this was the way it was going to be and there wasn't anything we could do about it?"

Josiah glanced to Nathan, who shook his head. The medic's face was tight with his own frustration, as much at Buck as at Fowler.

Ezra put the deck down on the table, folding his hands across the top of it. "Do you see an option in this situation that the rest of us have missed? If you have, I, for one, would welcome it. But from what I've seen and what I've been told by people I trust – not Fowler, I hasten to add, but others, we are in a tenuous position. The Albouais have one more battle-cruiser. We have enough power to destroy it if we can get to it, but we don't have the resources to survive a direct hit to either of our two remaining power stations or to aid any large numbers of casualties. We are as much against the wall as the Albouais are at this point."

"We've lost 24 million people since this started, Buck," Nathan said, his voice cold. "Our hospitals are overcrowded, we're short on personnel to care for them, short on all medications, and now we've got radiation sickness too from the second quadrant. We're at the end of our rope."

Buck rubbed at his face, his broad shoulders slumping. His uniform was wrinkled and stained; Ezra knew he hadn't returned to their shared quarters the past few nights, suspected he'd been out trying to find solace in anonymous beds. He'd left off his bandage and his hair was untidy, splotchy around the healing wound. "So it's all right, what he's doing to them. What he's doing to us."

"Hell no!" Nathan erupted. He pointed the remote at the monitor, terminating the feed. "Of course it ain't right! But you tell me, what options do we have? 24 million, Buck – million. And there's twice that many injured! Men, women, children – especially the children. You go walking into a hospital, see a kid who's on life support then try to explain to his parents why he died – because there wasn't enough power to keep the machines going until he could do it on his own! Or hell – you go up there and watch JD! Where the hell do you think the power's coming from that's keeping him alive?"

It wasn't the argument Ezra would have used, not this early. But then, he'd never been successful at winning an argument with either Wilmington or Larabee, and perhaps this was why.

Buck shook his head, but Josiah was the one who spoke next. "In the end, it all comes down to what we have to do to live with ourselves. We all agree that it's a horrible thing to do to Chris and Vin. But if they ever get out of this, do you think they could ever forgive themselves if they knew that they had had the power to save so many lives and hadn't done it? No matter what the cause is, this is one of those cases where the end may justify the means."

"You feel the same way, Ezra?" Buck asked, and Ezra didn't miss the fact that Buck didn't abbreviate his name.

"As to what aspect of this?" he asked, more to buy time than to actually get a response.

"The ends justifying the means." His voice was hoarse now, but Ezra knew the battle was, effectively, over.

"As I said, I see no other option. They are the only two who can do what must be done. It is unfortunate that they have to carry that burden and that it must be at such a personal price for them, but two people versus the remaining population of this planet. . . " He lifted his hands in a sort of surrender.

Buck nodded, a movement more to himself than to them, then said quietly. "Do me a favor? Call Blackfox, tell him to come here. I need to clean up, change clothes."

"Not Fowler?" Josiah asked.

Buck's face was pale as he turned to look at them. "Only if you want him dead."

There was no question about the promise in the words.

Blackfox came in wary, looking much like the weasel Ezra had expected. There were dark bruises around the skinny column of his throat, and Ezra wondered again that Fowler hadn't had Buck arrested. A leverage point, he thought, a threat that would only work if there were other factors at play, such as Buck wanting to be where he could talk to Chris.

As Buck hadn't put in an appearance yet, and Nathan and Josiah were pointedly ignoring the newcomer, Ezra gestured toward a chair at the table and shuffling the cards with one hand, he asked, "Might I interest you in a game of chance, Lieutenant?"

Several hands later, and somewhat poorer, Blackfox almost looked relieved when Buck finally came into the room.

Ezra wasn't surprised that there was no pretense of politeness.

"Why is Fowler trying to get in contact with me?" Buck stood just inside the room, his hands cross over his chest.

Blackfox glanced to the others. "He just wants to be sure that you're still comfortable with your decision –"

"I ain't in the mood to play games, Blackfox. If he needs my help, you'd better start coming clean now."

Ezra found himself fighting back a smile; he'd forgotten how sharp Buck was, when he wanted to be.

Blackfox had no knowledge of this harshness in Buck and his grin faltered. "Dr. Fowler has everything well in hand – "

Buck turned and was already stepping back into his room when Blackfox's voice rose. "No, wait! I – wait!"

Buck stopped but didn't turn around. "Talk fast," he snarled.

Blackfox looked around, perhaps hoping for some help from the others. Finding none, he said, "There might be a few problems. Major Larabee is still having, um, well, the last time wasn't effective. Dr. Fowler thinks that there's a problem, that the drugs alone don't work –"

"Get him on the comm," Buck spat. "Let's see how much he wants my help."

Ezra was glad afterwards that he hadn't placed any bets on this one. He would have lost. Buck was more like Chris than Chris was. He didn't waste time with any pleasantries here, either, glaring at Fowler as his face materialized on the monitor.

"You say they're the key to saving this planet, and you want me to help you get them to do this - this – thing? Then you have to help me help them. You call Dr. Travis back here right now, and I mean right now, because whoever dies at that trauma center will be dead anyway, if we don't get Chris participating. And I'm not going to help you do that until I talk to Dr. Travis."

Fowler was still for several seconds, before saying, "I don't know if you have the power you think you have."

Buck said nothing, simply lifting one arm from where it rested across the other and moving it to the connection console.

"Are you really going to let more people die?" Fowler said, but it was rapid, as if he thought his argument might work. "Millions, Wilmington, and you can stop it – "

"No, Fowler," Buck said, and he smiled, a smile Ezra hoped he never saw again. "You can."

"Wait." The word was sharp, but there was the faint cut of desperation in Fowler's voice. Movement caught Ezra's eye, and he turned to find Blackfox hovering, taking a step closer to Buck but his reluctance and fear were visible.

Buck didn't still but he slowed.

"I'll have her contact you immediately," Fowler said. "And you will contact Larabee."

Buck said nothing, did nothing, and Ezra knew this was, in truth, the point.

The silence grew long, and Blackfox grew more agitated, finally stepping almost up to Buck.

Perhaps it was his proximity that finally stirred Buck to response. "Just as soon as I get a new comm unit," he said shortly. "Reckon you can have that here about the same time I finish talking to Mary."

He broke the connection then, his head dropping slightly.

"Well, then," Blackfox said, stepping away. "Do you have any preferences for your comm system? I'll make sure you get . . . " His words drifted into nothing as Buck walked away, not acknowledging him at all.

"I'd recommend something with a strong frame," Josiah said as the door to Buck's quarters shut behind him. "And a wall-size monitor with extra thick plexi."

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
+16 months, 35.31 days fusion point

Buck had arrived early at the small restaurant, as much to check for anyone following him as to get out of the complex. He'd been relieved and depressed at the contact from Mary when it had come several hours after he'd terminated the call with Fowler.

He was committed now.

Not that he'd planned to back out of it; for two days, he'd tried everything he could to keep his anger alive, to not think about Chris and what he had given up. That had included ending up in strange beds with soft, willing bodies, sweet smiles, and the inability to do more than kiss, cuddle, and sleep too lightly and too little. Neither woman had made a lot out of his lack of desire to penetrate them, blaming it on the wound in his groin that was still healing, but he had known it for what it was: guilt and fear.

And maybe love, but he was trying hard not to think on that now. It was too big and too painful.

She came in fast, her hair unbound and bouncing on her shoulders, her face grim. She did smile slightly as she approached the table where he sat, her smile widening more when he rose to meet her.

"Mary," he said with a sigh, pleased when, as he held out his hand to her, she moved past it to give him a hug.

"I don't know what you did," she said, "but thank you. I can't believe that bastard had me blocked from the project."

She drew away, letting him help her get seated. The waitress was quick to get their orders, which was easy with the rationing, then left them alone.

They sat in silence at first, just looking at each other. She was tired, too, and he could imagine what she had been through these last days.

"I don't regret what I've been doing, Buck," she said, reading his mind a little, "and I'll go back to it as soon as I'm needed again. But I'll do everything I can for Chris and Vin, too. I had Fowler send me all the current reports before I'd agree to take the position back. They're . . . well, they'd have to be better than they were, but it's still bad. He had them so loaded up it's a wonder they could stand, much less. . . " She stopped, looking down at the table.

"Apparently they couldn't," Buck said, almost smiling. Almost. "That's why he's willing to negotiate with me."

She nodded, a little cold smile of her own playing at her pale features. "And you're going to do what he wants? Help them to . . . "

"Help them to save us all? Reckon so." He picked up his beer, taking a long swallow.

She shook her head, but she didn't argue. "I've invested over a year of my life in them, in trying to help them survive this until we can get them out. The very idea that he's doing this, that he's got the authority and support of the Administration to force them to . . ." She sipped from her own glass, but it was water; she was going back to her office, to her work with Chris, when she left here. "If I thought there was another way, Buck, I'd refuse to do this myself. If I thought we couldn't eventually get them out of there, I'd have slipped them something, a poison or something. I'm a doctor, I believe in healing people, not this torture."

The vehemence in her voice made him truly smile, and without a thought, he let his hand fall to rest on hers. "So we get them through this, get that last battle cruiser destroyed so that we can start rebuilding. When that's over, you and me go out to dinner somewhere like this, somewhere private, and we set a date. If you can't find a way to recover them by that date, you make good on what you just said."

She jerked, her hand tensing under his as her head rose just a little higher, her eyes searching his. "I . . ."

"He's not living, Mary, they're not living." He swallowed, looked away as his eyes clouded. "What's going on in there is worse than dying, and we all know it. So here's the thing: we get through this, let them save what we can from this situation by getting the Albies off our back. That'll give you time to get back to the research. If you can't find something in six months, somewhere to at least begin, we get them out of there."

She stared at him, then her eyes clouded as well. Unlike him, her tears did fall, sliding slowly down her cheeks. But her voice was level as she said, "All right. If we haven't found some clear direction, some plan, and if they haven't found some way to cope any better, I'll do it."

"That's an awful lot of 'ifs', Mary," Buck warned, letting his other thumb move to wipe at her face.

She didn't pull away at his touch. "You're asking me to murder the men who will be saving our whole civilization. It won't be an easy thing to do. Sure as hell won't be something they deserve."

She was right, and the impact of what they were talking about hit him hard. "I know," he said letting his hand fall away from her face. "But it'd be better than letting them suffer like this. Heroes don't deserve that torture."

She nodded once, pulling her hand free of his and wiping at her face. "You know, it's not going to be as simple as just ending the war."

He started to answer, but the waitress returned with their meals, giving him a few seconds to collect himself. As she left again, he found Mary looking at him, her eyes sad.

"Rebuilding," she said, making no move to eat. "I've seen plans, heard conversations... Fowler and the people he works for won't turn their backs on their need for energy to rebuild. I can't promise that what Chris and Vin are required to do will stop just because we win this last battle."

"Yeah," he agreed, picking at his own food. "Kinda hard to ignore something as efficient as the Larabee-Tanner project when things are as bad off as they are now. But let's cross that bridge when we come to it. Let's get through the present." He was tired, in a way that a year and a half of being without his partner and a year and a half of war couldn't have made him alone. Tired in his very soul. "We don't take out that Albie warship, I don't think anything else is going to matter."

She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin, smearing the makeup she still took pains to apply every day. "No, you're right. It won't." She tried to smile at him, a pretty lady trying to be strong. "One day at a time."

He nodded, not tasting the bite of food that made it into his mouth. "One day at a time."

"Fowler's already started cutting back the drugs," she said as if it were conversational, and perhaps, after the intensity of the last few minutes, it was, he wasn't certain any longer. "Chris won't have as hard a time as Vin will. His combinations were so strong and so complex that it's a wonder he could stand up."

Buck remembered the last time he had talked to Vin. "He 'bout couldn't," he conceded. "Looked like hell."

She nodded. "It's not going to be easy. For any of you."

"I know." The thought of watching Chris touch someone else, of talking him through it. . . He almost gagged on the food in his mouth, only the beer washing it down. Chris couldn't get it up without him, but in the face of what that meant he was going to have to do, it was no longer a comfort. "One day at a time," he said, more to himself than to her.

This time, it was her hand that covered his on the table, squeezing in reassurance.

He took a deep breath, not liking what he was going to say next, but he'd thought on it long and deep for the past several days. "Back when this all started, after that first time, on the treadmill," her hand clutched at his and her body straightened, but he plowed on, "you and Terry mentioned footage of what had happened. I need to see it now, it, and the times since."

She swallowed, still not yet touching her food. "Are you sure about that, Buck? I don't see how it's going to help you – "

"I need to see just how much control Chris has over Vin, how much . . . " He pulled away from her, unable to finish the thought. It was so far from what he had ever thought of his lover, his partner, that the words themselves couldn't make it past the back of his throat.

"I haven't . . . I don't know how the last week has been . . . " She lifted her glass a took a long drink, buying her own time.

"I need to know," he said quietly. "I need to know how much of it is real, and how much of it is because of the drugs and the radiation and – "

"It's all real, Buck," she said, cutting him off. "No matter what's causing them to do this, they are doing it, and you won't get any reassurance otherwise. It's going to hurt you – it's painful to watch and I'm not even invested in it emotionally. Do you honestly think that you need to see it?"

He looked at her, his head starting to throb again. "I been trying not to think on it, for days now. But if I'm gonna be able to help them, if I'm gonna be able to get through this, yeah, Mary, I need to know."

She sighed. "I'll see what I can do. But you better be sure, Buck. And you make sure before you say anything to Chris. If it breaks you, I don't want to have to pick up those pieces either."

"Yeah, I know," he answered. "I haven't talked to Chris in days, and I don't plan to say anything until I know what I can handle. The last time I talked to him, and to Vin, it was like I didn't know them. I know I can't handle that, Mary, but I also know that I'll do anything I can to get them out of that place."

She smiled at him. "Then let's do what we can," she agreed. "One step at a time."

They left most of their food still on the plate, no amount of forced cheerfulness able to compensate for the cold truths that had come with them to the table.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
+17 months, 01.15 days fusion point

Chris pushed himself away from the toilet, watching the sparkling colors swirl and vanish down the drain. He was shaky, sweaty, and damned tired of this.

Four days so far, and even though he was getting better, the bouts of nausea less frequent, they still seemed as intense and debilitating.

God damn Fowler.

It wasn't the first time he'd thought it, and he suspected it wouldn't be the last. He'd been cooperating, been trying his damnedest to do what was required but Fowler had drugged him to the point that he could barely remember what had happened. What he had last said to Buck.

When he had last seen Buck.

Damn Fowler.

"Chris?" Mary's voice was soft and clear through whichever set of speakers they'd installed in this room. "Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not," he answered, but he knew he was directing his anger the wrong way.

She seemed to know it, too, but she was, as always, pleasant. "I know it doesn't seem so, but you're doing a lot better. Your system should be almost back to normal in just another couple of days. Try to drink more water – and yes, I know, it's difficult to keep it down, but a lot of the pain and the headaches will pass if you stay hydrated."

He'd come to hate that word.

He made his way out the door and across the study to the cooling box, fumbling out a bottle of water. Unlike the ones Fowler had sent to them, this one was neither colored nor labeled. No difference between his and Vin's now.

Vin.

He must've held the bottle too long, his thoughts too obvious, for Mary said quietly, "Vin's having more problems – he's still keeping little down. We haven't tried solid food with him yet."

Served him right, a vindictive part of him thought. If he'd cooperated, none of these drugs would have been necessary.

But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn't all Vin's fault. His own body had betrayed him, unable to do what was necessary even in the rare moments that Vin was willing.

Which led him back to Buck.

He couldn't blame his lover – hell, if Buck had asked of him what he knew he'd asked of Buck, he'd have shot someone. Probably Buck.

He missed him, though, not just as a contact point to the outside world, but because he was Buck. Because he loved him, needed him, wanted him in all the ways that Vin would never replace.

The thought of spending the rest of his life with just Vin for company was enough to make him wish the drugs had killed him. Not that it was Vin's fault. But their friendship was no substitute for his love for Buck. And, as had already been proven, sex with Vin was no substitute either.

It was getting harder not to resent the other man, not for being who he was, but for being who he wasn't. It wasn't fair to wish that Buck had been in that reactor room with him, but if could do it over again, with the knowledge he had now . . .

"Chris?"

He was still staring at the bottle, he realized. "Yeah," he answered, twisting off the metal cap and tossing it toward the recycle bin. As he drank, sipping in case his stomach revolted, she continued.

"Buck asked me to tell you that he'll be in touch soon. He's getting a new comm unit, which is taking longer than expected."

She said it so normally that he almost believed her. No, he believed her, she wasn't that good a liar. It was what she wasn't saying that he took a second to hear, and it almost made him smile. Buck had destroyed the comm unit in their room. How funny. That had always been Chris' temper-tantrum destruction.

"He's pretty pissed," he said as casually as she had, hoping to get an honest answer.

"Well, he's as upset by all of this as the rest of us are."

He couldn't hardly argue about that; Buck was pissed, no doubt about that. Perhaps permanently so.

"Vin's pretty upset too," she said, a little more delicately. "And he's not doing well, Chris. Would you mind checking on him?"

He stopped drinking, letting the bottle slowly tilt away from his mouth. Fuck no, he thought, he would not consider checking on Vin. This whole damned mess could be done already if he had cooperated, just spread his legs and stopped being such a prima dona about the whole thing.

It wasn't Chris' fault that Vin was so sick, that they'd had to force him to cooperate –

"Chris?" Mary asked. "Should I get one of our people suited up?"

God damn it. "No, I'll go." He sighed, lifted the bottle again to his lips and drank slowly, very slowly, almost wishing it would come back up and he could put this off.

The way was familiar, he'd been there more than enough lately. He squelched the stir in his groin, the conditioned reaction to the walk through the short corridor to Vin's door. That wasn't what this trip was about.

He sounded the chime, annoyed that the doors still didn't just open for him. "Vin!" he called, hating the sound of the name and all it stood for. It seemed an infinity ago that they had been friends and he had welcomed the other man's company. "Vin! Open the damned doors!"

They did slide apart, but it was Mary's voice that said softly, "Sorry, I forgot I hadn't keyed the over ride."

Vin was in the bathroom, sitting on the floor, his back to side of the small shower so that he only had to lean forward to be over the toilet bowl. He was pale and shaking, his breathing in small gasps, a large towel around his shoulders. His eyes were closed, and he didn't seem to know Chris was there. He jumped when Chris bent down, touching the base of a cold water bottle to Vin's forehead.

"No!" he pushed back, trying to fit himself into the little space between the toilet and the wall, "Not now, I ain't in no shape - ."

"I ain't here for that," Chris spat, but a spike of guilt managed to worm its way loose of the mire of anger. "Just making sure you're all right."

Vin was trembling now, his hands barely able to pull the ends of the towel across his chest. "Get out," he rushed, his voice cold, "just get out."

"You're welcome." He almost tossed the full water bottle to the floor, catching himself at the last second with the fact that it would shatter, and that would be another mess he'd probably have to clean up. "Here."

Dropping it into Vin's lap didn't do a lot better, especially as two seconds after it hit his groin, he was bent over the toilet, retching. Or trying to. Like Chris, his body no longer held anything to expel.

It was pathetic to watch, Vin's misery a little too familiar to Chris right now, and despite himself, he washed out a cloth and held it out, careful not to touch the other man as Vin took it from him.

"Pretty bad?" he asked, even though he didn't need to, the answer was obvious. He squatted down, taking the water bottle from where it had ended up on the floor on its side and opening it. "Take a sip or two, slow and easy."

Vin was shaking so bad that he ended up spilling more of it on himself than getting it in, but that was probably better. It didn't come back immediately.

Chris looked at him, watched him, and some of the concern he'd always had for the other man returned. Vin was his friend, had been for a long time, and a damned good one. He'd always supported Chris, even when they'd disagreed. If it had been one of the others, hell, if it'd been anyone other than Buck, he wasn't certain if it would have gotten even this far.

"Hey," he said quietly, kneeling down to be at eye level as Vin blinked his eyes open. They were bloodshot and dull, but mostly, afraid. That was the part that got to Chris, that Vin could no longer look at him without being scared. "I'm sorry," he said.

Vin looked at him for several seconds, as if his brain was trying to wrap around the idea. When it took, he shook his head, looking away. "Yeah, me too." He leaned back, closing his eyes, tugging at the towel. "Don't matter, does it. Won't change one damned thing."

Chris sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "You all right? You need anything – anything I can actually get?"

Vin was silent and still, so much so that Chris thought he might have gone to sleep. When he finally spoke, as Chris was getting ready to push himself up and out, it was a little disconcerting.

"What if we never get out of here?" he asked. "You gonna hate me that long?"

Chris hesitated, irritation burning in his gut. "Don't hate you," he said shortly.

Vin snorted, but it was a small sound, as weak as he looked. "You sure as hell ain't liking me much these days. Wish I could take this as well as you have, Chris, but ain't all of us as accepting as you and Buck about being owned by another man. 'Specially one who don't care about . . ."

His words drifted off and he let his head roll to one side. He might have gone to sleep this time, but Chris didn't wait. Something about the direction the words had been taking unsettled him and he didn't want to hear the end of the sentence. He did care about Vin; right now he cared too much.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;  
+17 months, 03.47 days fusion point

"They're not ready," she said coldly, glaring at the man across the table from her. "Vin's barely able to move. Chris is better, but I don't think he'll be all that thrilled with the idea of having to do what you want him to."

Fowler's face was like stone, and she knew already that she had lost the argument. Between them, Blackfox sat rigid except for one hand, which drummed annoyingly on the tabletop.

"We have run out of time, Dr. Travis," Fowler said flatly. "It has been over two weeks since the last attack, the longest time period that the Albies have left us alone. Equally as problematic, the reserves are only good for ten days. We have started losing the stored energy and we are going to have to start replacing. We've delayed as long as we can."

She clenched her jaw, aware that she was becoming more like Chris all the time. "Even if they can't give you what you want, you're going to make them try?"

Fowler looked at her, tilting his head to one side. "I know the level of withdrawal – unless your own reports are inaccurate. Lieutenant Tanner is at the point he was at the last time the result was sufficient. Major Larabee is in even better shape. And with the addition of Captain Wilmington to coach them along, they should be able to do what needs to be done to get us to full capacity." He pushed himself away from the table, looking down at her. "I made a mistake before, Dr. Travis, I concede that. But I don't like to make two mistakes in a row. Please don't disappoint me. Or them."

Blackfox rose as well, but Fowler was gone by the time the smaller man got his feet under him.

He smiled at Mary, a nervous little grin that made her ill. "He means well," Blackfox said. "This isn't easy for him either, you know – "

"I've got work to do, Lieutenant," she said shortly. She turned to her monitor, not watching him leave.

She made certain he was gone and the door to her office was closed before connecting to Chris' comm unit.

He was smart; she didn't have to say a word. The look on her face must have told him.

"Out of time," he said by way of greeting. "Buck know?"

She shook her head even as she answered, "I was going to go talk to him. I think it would be better that way." She took a deep breath, but he again got ahead of her.

"Reckon I get to tell Vin."

His features had hardened and she frowned. "Chris, maybe I should – "

"You get to talk to Buck," he said grimly. "If you can get him to help me, I can get Vin in here."

She shook her head. "He's scared, Chris, and he's not completely clear yet, I've been easing him off – "

"So he's a little out of it? That's probably best anyway, isn't it?" He snorted in frustration, looking away from her. "How bad can it be – hell, he gets off!"

She didn't say anything, they'd said all of this so many times before.

After a few seconds, he said more calmly, "Reckon it's tonight, then."

"Soon," she agreed. "I'll let you know after I talk to Buck."

He nodded then closed the connection before anything else was said.

She keyed in Buck's address, but somehow it seemed wrong to try to have this conversation this way. He wasn't back on active duty yet, so when no one answered the chime for the room, she knew he was at the hospital with JD.

She caught him just as he was leaving the floor JD was on, not surprised to see him leaning on the counter of the monitoring station, talking to one of the staff. She waited until he was laughing and backing away before catching his attention.

Unlike Chris, Buck wasn't instantly aware of what was on her mind. It took him through the salutations and the pleasantries and right up to the suggestion that they get something to drink.

He stopped in the middle of the first-floor hallway, his face pale, his eyes wide. "Now?"

"Tonight," she answered softly. "Can we talk?"

He didn't move, didn't answer her, and she caught his wrist, drawing him along and through a door to a side-yard with low seats and small tables. There were people about, but towards the far end, they had privacy.

He didn't disappoint her, asking quietly, " Have you watched those videos? Have you seen what happens between them?"

"Yes," she answered softly. "I know."

Buck looked away, and she saw him shiver slightly. "I've known Chris for so long that I guess I just forgot how . . . determined he can be. 'Specially when he thinks he's right."

"Didn't help that he was with someone else," she murmured, leaning forward to take his hand between hers. "This won't be easy, Buck. Did you see the last time?"

He nodded and seemed to relax just a little. "Wonder Vin could do anything, he was so stoned he – "

"I know. That's part of why the drugs are out, at least for the moment." She let him mull it for a few seconds, then asked, "Are you going to be able to help, Buck?"

He sighed, his answer a rambling way to avoid the issue. "I couldn't watch some of them, the ones in the middle. Bad enough to watch him touching another man, but to watch Vin – he was so torn up, but he couldn't stop himself, like one of them cheap romance women. So angry but not able to stop himself. Gonna be worse tonight, Mary, that last time, even so drugged up, it was there in his eyes, this whole thing scares him. And it should, I guess, but I don't know if I can help him with that. Don't know if I can live with myself helping Chris do that to him."

She let her hands tighten on his. "I understand. But, let me ask you, Buck, would it be better for Vin to let Fowler find some other way? Could you live with yourself better knowing he was shooting Vin up with some sort of drug that would make him physically respond despite being hurt?"

Buck's head turned so fast that she heard the whoosh of air. "Could he – are there drugs that – fuck."

"Blackfox knows about them, I saw the report on his desk. Fowler started with trying to force a mood. But he could change it now, use drugs that affect the physical. It's going to happen, if he has to hold one or both of them down and – well, it's going to happen."

She knew it as truth, and so did he; the fact of it was in his eyes as he met hers.

"They need you, Buck, both of them."

"Do they?" he asked softly. "Maybe Chris does. But . . . " He swallowed, but continued on, saying the words she had hoped she'd never have to explain. "I watched those videos all right, saw what they were doing with their bodies, with their dicks. But I also saw what Vin was doing, what he was saying – not with his mouth, Mary, 'cause that would have been something he had to think about. But it's in his eyes. Blackfox tried to tell me and I didn't want to hear it, but he was right. Vin's . . . he might not want a man, but he wants Chris."

It was hard to argue with what she saw herself. But there was a possible explanation. "It's possible there's a reason, Buck. It doesn't make the emotion any less real at the time, but there have been studies done of victims of long-term hostage situations. Like the Bracka satellite survivors? They were held on the satellite for almost two years with the terrorists. By the time they were released, many of the hostages claimed initially that they had chosen to stay with their captors. Of the ones who did, within five years in the general population of the planet, they had returned to their previous families and lives, as much as they could." She paused, letting him understand what she was saying.

"The way they felt was because they didn't have a choice?" Buck asked, and she knew he was thinking of the things they had all said to Vin, of the things they had all said to Chris.

"Something like that. The stress of the situation coupled with fear of trying to stay alive seems to draw a strange survival emotion that is akin to love, but it's not permanent, not once the situation resolves." She patted his hand. "What he's feeling is probably a combination of too many things, Buck. In some ways, it might make all of this easier."

"Or harder," he murmured. "Trapped with someone you love who don't love you back?"

Trust him to see the one thing Terry had worried about. "It is what it is, Buck. Let's not jump to any conclusions until we know. It could have been the drugs too."

He closed his eyes, his free hand moving to scrub through his hair until he hit the small bandage he still wore, and he hissed a curse. "Yeah, all right. Just give me – give me a little while to work my head into it."

She nodded. "You just let me know."

He drew his hand away then, and she let him, rising when he did. He didn't say much as they made their way back into the hospital, but he did smile and nod to the people he knew, his charm so much a part of him that it couldn't be subdued. That was what Chris and Vin needed right now: Buck's charm and his easy nature.

She stopped at the door to the outside, catching him by the arm. "I need to check on a few things here," she said, "but you let me know when you're ready."

He nodded, and then did that thing that only a man like Buck Wilmington could do: he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, as if she weren't the one driving him to do this horrible thing. "Thanks, Mary. When this is done, though, we're gonna have that date."

She nodded, not needing any clarification. It was her part of this devil's bargain.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;   
+17 months, 03.62 days fusion point

In the past, coming "home" to his and Chris' little room with its video monitor, computer workstation, actual shower, and comfortable bed had been the best part of his days. Even this past year and a half, without Chris, it had still held something that was a comfort to him, something that was still safe and warm, a refuge from war and work and the constant strain of this perverse new life. But coming back to it today filled him with a sickness in his gut that threatened to push his heart right up out of his throat.

Mary had promised him that they'd dialed down the drugs, and he talked to Chris enough to know that he was going through some sort of withdrawal – he looked like hell. But those conversations had been short and one-sided, more Chris talking, begging, really, than Buck asking anything. And Chris hadn't wanted to talk about how he felt physically, hadn't wanted to talk about anything that touched on what he had done with Vin.

Chris hadn't needed to. Buck had seen it, as much as he could stomach anyway.

Now, as he stood at his newer, bigger, better comm unit, Chris' code already on the screen, he knew what he'd see on the other side of the camera: his friend, his lover, worried, angry, but, like Buck, fully aware that there were no options. Make or break, Chris would say, their private code for backing each other to hell and back.

Only hell had never looked like this, this rich merger of pleasure and pain.

He hesitated, his finger on the send key, but he didn't punch in the code. For all that was between him and Chris, they weren't alone in this. And while they had danced around it, and did more talking about it in their avoidance of it, he had yet to even talk to Vin.

He needed to see the other man first, really see him, so he threw down his jacket and left the room, trying not to acknowledge any relief at the small delay. It wouldn't be long; transit to the complex was quick this time of night, and the officers at the gates knew him and his badge, letting him through quickly. From there, he turned down wide concrete corridors and badged himself through several more levels of security until he came to the oppressive office that housed the emergency medical teams. The walls were eight feet thick and reinforced with energy barriers, and still nobody was supposed to work more than three weeks in a row, special radiation detectors clipped to their lab coats turning slowly from black to red until they got rotated out and treated.

More people's badges were red these days, as they ran out of staff and equipment and the luxury of personal safety, but nobody complained.

"Hey, Tanya," Buck said, easing up behind one of the techs who had suited up fast and saved Vin's life, all those months ago. He'd been grateful, then, but with the image of Vin from just days ago still in his head, he wasn't so sure now. "I need to see Vin."

She smiled at him, but there was hesitation on her face. "Not Chris?" she asked.

"Not yet," he answered. "Haven't seen Vin in a while, heard he was having a harder time with this."

She looked away, but the gesture was telling; very few were supposed to know what was going on in there, but they all knew. The fact that they had to clear the entire floor when the energy levels spiked was a good indicator.

As of late, they were given advance warning to let them know that it was planned. Didn't take a rocket scientist to add the numbers and come up with something nobody wanted to think about.

She punched a keypad and he heard steel blast locks sliding free of a door at the far end of the room. "He's awake," she said, her eyes tired and sad. "He's... he's a lot better."

Tanya Reynolds and her team knew everything there was to know--more than Mary, more than Dr. Greer or Blackfox or Fowler himself, because they knew the men as well as the information. Tanya spent more time than she was supposed to sitting in a metal chair outside the clear wall in one corner of Vin's 'receiving room,' as Ezra had started calling it. She talked to him, helping him stay sane through most of it. Buck thought Vin might have developed a little crush on her at one point, and Buck couldn't blame him; she gave Vin a sense of normalcy that pretty much no one else in the universe could, talking about the rats, helping him name them, telling him about the progress with the reversal experiments and the war and her home in the fourth quadrant, , where she had grown up, near that place where Vin had wanted to settle with Charlotte.

Buck squeezed her shoulder gently. "That's good. That's real good."

Her hand came up to cover his briefly, and he tried not to look at the graying beds of her fingernails. She was killing herself for this project by slow degrees, and he knew she knew it. If this war didn't end soon, if she didn't get weeks in treatment and decontamination, she'd be another one of the casualties.

It didn't make his own situation any easier, but it did give it a little more weight.

She let go and flicked a button. "Vin? You have company."

It took longer than Buck thought it should before Vin's disembodied voice wafted out of the speaker. "I got a choice?" he asked dully.

"Of course you do," Buck said before Tanya could. "It's just me, pard. I'd appreciate it if you could spare me a little time."

"Buck? Yeah... yeah, come on in."

Buck waited until the speaker light was off before he cursed. "That's better? He sounds like hell."

She nodded somberly. "It's a lot better. Most of the drugs have cleared his system, he's got his faculties back. He's feeding Eddie and Bob himself again, and he managed to keep down some solid food today."

That sick feeling intensified, but Buck didn't say anything, just went to the door and waited for it to swing silently open.

He stepped through and strode down the short hall to the clear barrier, putting both hands on it as he peered through. "Hey, pard," he said quietly.

Vin leaned against the wall in clear view, head down, hair hanging over his face, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants. "Hey," Vin mumbled. "Didn't figure you'd have much need for talkin' to me."

He hadn't expected it to come out quite that fast and blunt, and it left him not quite knowing how to answer. Best just dive in, he figured, since it was too late to be playing any games. "Ain't like you had much say in it," he said. "Fowler had control of everything, shipped Travis and Greer out so he could do what he wanted, drugged you both into submission."

"Yeah, that's about the way of it," Vin said, and his head rolled heavily on his neck. "Mary wouldn't have stood for what--for what they did."

"Fowler? Or..."

Vin's body jerked like he'd been struck, but he shoved off the wall and walked toward his side of the glass, pushing his hair back off his face. "He doped Chris too," he said finally. "Had to. Buck, I wouldn't believe Chris could do the shit he did to me if he'd had his own mind. I can't believe that."

"You're right," Buck replied, feeling that sickness in him supplanted by a small sense of calm. It was true; Chris couldn't have. He knew that, but something in saying it, in hearing Vin say it, calmed some of his own torment. "And he can't do it now, Vin, not on his own."

Vin frowned at him. "So – you are gonna help him." The words were hollow but there was a little heat behind them. "You're gonna help him do this to me."

Buck studied him for a second then asked quietly, "Is there a choice here, Vin? You know what we're up against – what you and Chris are up against."

Vin shivered a little. "Yeah. I know."

"Then you know why I'm here," Buck said softly.

"Yep. Got to pretty me up for your partner," Vin said hollowly, "make me into something he might actually succeed in fucking this time."

"Then you don't know why I'm here," Buck said stubbornly, feeling a little of the anger burn. "Look me in the eye and tell me you think I came to see you just to make this easier on Chris."

Vin did look at him, and the range of emotions that played across that pretty face were many and varied. Mary hadn't lied to him, then; Vin had most of his own mind back. He was pissed too, and desperate, and despairing, but he was awake inside his own head, and Buck was grateful. Selfish too; this meant that Chris was better, more himself. Images of that last time still played through his mind, too horrible for him to accept.

Buck just stood there and withstood the scrutiny, and after a long moment Vin sighed. "Sorry," he said.

"Nothing to apologize for," he said, meaning it. "This sucks six ways from Sunday. Mary thinks half of Chris's, uh, performance trouble that last time came from the drugs Fowler had pumped into him, but Chris disagrees. He's tearing himself up over what he's doing to you and to me--now hold on," Buck said, holding up a hand to stay Vin's indrawn breath, "I'm not defending him. I'm telling you that even if he won't say it--and you know he probably won't, because he's an asshole and always was--he's gonna be sorrier than hell about what he's done, hell, probably already is. And sorry about what he has to do. And that sorry is gonna make things harder, 'cause it's making him angry, so we have to get past it. I have to get him past it." He watched as Vin mulled the words over. "You hold onto that, okay, Vin? Hold on to your friends, like me and like the rest of the boys, and Chris too, because it's the only thing that's gonna see you through this, especially after it."

Vin let his breath out on a sigh, and Buck wondered how to go on, how stable Vin really was with fewer of the meds in him. They'd all been to see Vin as often as they could since the accident, Josiah, JD, Ezra and Nathan more because Buck had "obligations" to fulfill with Chris in what little time he'd had. But he knew how hard this had been for Vin even before the sex and the drugs. It had gotten so much worse since then.

"I ever tell you my mother was a prostitute?" he asked, thinking to ease Vin into what really needed saying.

Vin's eyebrows rose but he said nothing, which was answer enough for Buck.

"She didn't much like the work but she was good at it, and she hadn't been trained for much else. She did it for the money, because she had a sick sister who needed expensive treatment, and because she cared more about being able to spend time with my cousins and me than she cared about 'respectability'. It wasn't easy on her, especially at first. But Vin..." he sighed, remembering. "She learned something, and she taught me something about people, men and women.

"What she did, she did to put food on the table and keep my aunt's medical bills paid up. She wasn't saving the whole planet."

"That s'posed to make me feel better, Buck?" he asked, his lip curling a little. "She still had a choice."

Buck nodded. "I was hoping it would, yeah. Because you have a choice too, Vin."

Vin frowned, his wide forehead lining with confusion. "Don't look like it from in here."

"I reckon that's because you don't want to see it. I reckon you think it's easier to blame everybody for the shit we're all in, and not make that choice. But, Vin, I've gotta tell you, I never met a hooker who didn't choose to make it work who had any kind of happiness in her soul. And I knew plenty who did choose, and were plenty happy." He paused, thinking it through. Wondering what else this was going to cost him, and Vin too.

"You choose, Vin. At the very least, you choose what you've got, and maybe this'll go easier for you."

"Choose what I've got?" Vin spat. "What I've got is a pretty prison and monitors in all three of its rooms. What I've got is a best friend who's brought me off more times than I want to think about against my will and is planning on doing it again for the greater good – only this time, it ain't enough to let him jerk my dick, this time I gotta let him fuck me. What I've got is a fucking rapist for a cellmate and a body that belongs more to him than to me!"

His voice had gotten louder with each word until the last were yelled, screamed loud and hard enough that the words themselves distorted with rage.

Buck wanted to tell Vin what a shitpile his own life had become, what he and Chris had become, but if there had ever been a worse time for self-indulgence, he couldn't imagine it. "Yeah," he said, still quiet. "That's what you've got. You've got a fucked-up body that holds the key to saving billions of people, and a best friend who's as manipulated and messed up as you are. What you've got is a friend standing right in front of you who's sacrificed things he never could have imagined. What you've got is four more friends who will do whatever they can, and a team of doctors and scientists doing their damnedest under impossible circumstances to get you out of this box you're in." His own voice had started to rise, and Buck stopped, sucked in a breath, that sick feeling rising again in him.

"What you've got," he said after a moment, "is a man who loves Chris Larabee so much that he's carved out survival in a cell of his own and a TV monitor and jerk-off sessions, where the last thing we had left for each other is really all about producing power for the war effort. You've got two friends who have whored everything that means anything to them, and who don't have much left." The tears had started to well up as soon as Buck had mentioned Chris's name, but Buck hadn't looked away. They spilled over now, hot and scalding on his skin, but at least he could see Vin clearly again. "What you've got," he said, coughing to clear his throat, "is a friend who's about to go into a room and watch the man he loves fuck another guy, someone else he cares a whole hell of a lot about."

The sickness in his gut clenched down hard, cramping something inside him, but Buck plowed on. If he was going to puke, his stomach had better have the decency to wait until he got outside, or at least far enough down the hall that Vin wouldn't have to see it.

If he failed, well... they'd all fail. Everything would.

"Choose that, Vin. Choose what you've got, because it's a little bit better than what you've been pretending you have. The right to say 'no' ain't never been a choice, so you got to let it go."

"You been talking to Fowler?" Vin asked then, his voice tightly controlled.

"What? No." The question was so unexpected that he was thrown.

"Huh. 'Cause he said something like what you're saying now." The tightness started slipping, an animal noise working its way out with the words. "He said I ought to just suck it up and take the one pleasure I've got left in here... letting some man, any man touch me, make me... bring me off... do the things--"

He wasn't prepared for the hand that slammed into the barrier on Vin's side of it, or for the noise that climbed up out of Vin's throat. He wasn't prepared for the way Vin crumpled to his knees, hands still pressed against the glass, or the sobs that tore out of him. He wasn't prepared, but he acted, dropping to his side of the wall and pressing his palms hard against Vin's, crying harder now than he could remember crying since he'd thought Chris and Vin had died in that blast.

"I'm losing myself, Buck," Vin choked out. "I don't know who I am any more. It's all mixed up in my head, getting worse now 'stead of better, like I don't know what I want, what I feel . . ."

"It sucks," Buck heard himself saying, over and over again. And it did.

Soon enough that blast of feeling washed out of them, leaving Vin small and shaking on one side of the wall and Buck dead inside on the other.

His hands started to tingle, just like they did when he and Chris had done this for more than a minute, but he held them there, not really caring anymore. Soon enough though, Vin pulled himself together and jerked his hands away from the barrier like he was the one getting burned. "I--?" Vin looked to Buck's hands wildly, checking him for damage.

Something in Buck eased again then, seeing Vin's concern for him, knowing that Vin was aware enough to realize his surroundings.

"It wasn't that long, don't worry," Buck said, sniffing. He dropped to his butt on the floor and then, after a second, to his back. They were all so fucking tired.

"I'm gonna go grab a shower," Vin said slowly, "get cleaned up. Give me half an hour before you call us, okay?"

Buck turned his head to look at Vin, saw a little of the man's old determination, and nodded. Maybe this was just what both he and Vin needed, a chance to set it straight in their heads and wallow for a minute. A luxury.

Vin's brows furrowed though, and he asked, "Choose what you've got, huh?"

Buck nodded, wondering how much a fool he was. "Best way through it."

"Have you seen any of the video?"

"What video?" he asked stupidly, even though he knew what Vin was asking.

"Of... of Chris and me. Of when we..."

Buck's gut roiled again. "Yeah. The first two. The last one."

Vin nodded, resolute even though snot and tears shone gold on his face. "It don't mean nothing, Buck," Vin said, his voice hard-edged for the first time in weeks. "You hold onto that, okay? It don't mean nothing."

Buck thought he knew what Vin was saying, but he wasn't sure. So he just said, "Yeah it does, Vin. He's your friend, you're my friend, and it's gonna save all of us. It means everything."

Vin's eyes were tired and sad. "Yeah, save us all," he murmured. He shook his head and sighed, pushing himself up.

Something he'd said came to Buck's mind, a sort of reassurance he hadn't thought of. "Vin?"

Vin turned back as Buck got to his own feet.

"I'm helping to make it easier for both of you. 'Cause Chris needs me, or so he says. If I make it easier for him, then he might not need to do nothing more than touch you."

He watched the play of emotion over Vin's face, relief the strongest but something else, that thing he had talked to Mary about. That sense that Vin was coming to care for Chris, want more, than Vin himself was ready to accept.

"Thanks," Vin nodded. "Hope you're right."

But some little part of him hoped Buck was wrong, and Buck saw it in his eyes. The knowledge of that made him both jealous and worried.

Buck started toward the doors, but paused to straighten himself up. Not that it mattered; Tanya looked at him sadly as he came through, her eyes soft and warm.

"I tried not to listen, Buck," she announced, coming around the counter to slip an arm around him. "But when he started yelling, the energy spiked a little and – "

"I know," Buck let his own arm settle around her. "Guess you heard more than you wanted to."

"You're right, the whole thing sucks," she agreed. "For all of you." She stretched up, kissing him on the cheek, and he let her. It was nice just to have that warm body against him, different from the warm bodies he had played with several days ago, the warm bodies he hadn't been able to bring himself to hold. Hers, he could, because he knew it wasn't going any farther.

The tears were building again, but he fought them this time; he had things he had to do now, two other people he really had to be helping.

Slowly, he eased her away. "You on all night?" he asked, squeezing her shoulders as he gently moved her away.

"Yeah," she sighed, "my turn to see the floorshow." She colored a little as soon as the word left her mouth, and he realized that this was a new jargon word, that the techs had given a name to the times that Chris and Vin got up to what they got up to.

Given his own role in this, it seemed far more apt than he'd expected. Despite himself, he grinned at her. "Should be something to see, at least the light show."

She tried not to grin but she couldn't help herself. "It's right pretty, yeah."

"When this is over tonight, I want you to check on Vin for me." He was asking, even though it came out as a sort of command. "He's scared and he's got a right to be."

She nodded. "I know. I can't imagine what it would be like to have to . . ." She shook her head, but followed it with, "I can't imagine what it's gonna be like for you, either, Buck. You're a good man, not to have walked away from all of this."

He smiled again, but looked away. "You keep an eye on Vin. He's probably gonna need some kind words."

"You want to see Chris?" she asked, reluctantly breaking their connection to head back around the counter to the controls.

He shook his head. "Not right now." He was gonna see as much of Chris as he could stand in just a few minutes, but there was no need to tell her that.

He took his time getting back to the room, as much for Vin as for himself. He wasn't surprised that none of the rest of the team was there; they all knew that it was coming, Mary had probably put out some polite innuendo about it and Ezra had picked up on it – and he was here alone.

Hopefully some of them were with JD.

He walked into the room, stopping inside the doorway to stare at the big screen mounted on the wall above his desk. He'd wanted it initially, requested it every chance he could, a monitor that would let him see Chris full-body.

With the irony that he was coming to despise, he'd gotten the large-screen just in time to see Chris in bed with someone else, both of them in all their glory. Goddammit.

He sighed, shrugging out of his jacket, then his shirt. His shoes were next, but he moved to the bed to take them off and found that he couldn't sit down, not yet.

A quick shower, he thought, but he knew he was stalling and he knew he needed to talk to Chris before they brought Vin in. And he knew how nervous Vin would be. A virgin on her wedding night, he thought, but there was no wedding-bliss in this, no pretty words or ceremony or anything.

He shook his head but walked to the desk, keying the address before he had time to think of a reason not to.

Chris answered so fast that Buck knew he had been waiting.

The green eyes were clear and bright, and holding more need than Buck had seen in a long time. Enough need, enough want, to take his breath.

"Buck," Chris said, but it came out as a hiss, and low and throaty, full of promise. Against all the odds Buck would have put on this, it stirred the fires of his own desire just a little, taking some of the edge off this. "God, have I missed you."

"Yeah," he agreed, surprised his own voice was so deep. "How you doing?"

Chris shook his head. "Missing the hell out of you," he answered. "Didn't realize how hard it'd be, not being with you. Even as little as this, what little we got right now."

"Yeah," Buck heard himself agree again, wondering when his vocabulary had become so limited.

"You look good," Chris said, and Buck could almost feel the eyes on him. "Real good."

"'Course I do," Buck said automatically. "Hard for me to look any other way." But he was doing his own looking, staring hard at the golden shimmers he had come to love.

"How's your head?" Chris asked, and it took Buck a few seconds to realize that the question wasn't about his attitude but about the actual injury.

"Still itches a little but it's coming along – I'm feeling a little underdressed here."

Chris smiled a little, then easily pulled his shirt off, the movement clean and graceful. "I been worried about that leg wound – guess I get to finally see it, huh."

Buck chuckled, but he was paying more attention to drinking in the sight of his lover. Chris had lost a little more weight, his ribs more prominent than Buck liked. He also seemed paler, the lack of color not so obvious on its own but indicated by the intensity of the glittering.

But seeing him did all those things to Buck that made him forget, for a few seconds, what was going to happen here. Made him realize that this was why he hadn't been able to do anything with those willing bodies who'd offered themselves to him so recently,

It must've worked for Chris as well, because he tore his eyes away from Buck's bare chest long enough to meet his eyes. "Wish it were you," he said, and while the words were familiar, the sentiment shared, the depth of it was stronger than ever before.

"Me too," he murmured, reaching out without thinking to the face on the screen.

"Show me," Chris said, one of his hands teasing down his own chest to his belly, the lower, cupping his rising erection. "Let me see you, Buck."

It was habit but also desperation. Watching Chris watching him was a form of solace, to see the heat in the eyes of the man he loved was confirmation that no matter what had happened previously, what was going to happen later, Chris was still his. And he was still Chris'.

They were both naked, but aroused, falling into the patterns they had developed that needed no thought but brought maximum pleasure. Buck watched Chris' hand moving, mirrored it with his own, when the unwelcome thought intruded that they were getting too close, too soon.

Perhaps thinking it himself, or seeing it in Buck's face, Chris groaned, low and long, but slowed. "Damn," he whispered.

Buck nodded. "Get him, Chris, before it's too late."

"His room," Chris sighed, and reluctantly let go of his leaking cock. "I'll code you when I get there, and get him."

Buck nodded, watching as Chris turned away from the camera, watching the flex of his muscular ass as he walked away, thinking about what it had been like to hold those globes of flesh, to spread them to find the secret place within, to bury himself in the other man.

He closed his eyes even as he moved to break the connection, but as he heard the doors slide apart he was startled to hear Chris' voice, annoyed.

"What the hell – "

He opened his eyes in time to see Vin just barely visible past Chris. "Decided I didn't want to wait around for you to show up," Vin rasped. "You want to do this, we can do it in your room this time."

Buck smiled, knowing that some part of what he had told Vin had gotten through. Vin didn't have a lot of control in this situation, but he was taking what he could. If nothing else, he'd have a little more sanctuary in his own rooms, not being reminded of this every time he looked at the bed or the pillow or the desk.

Chris' shoulders straightened, and Buck realized that his lover didn't like this side of Vin – but then, Chris wasn't going to like any of this.

"Come on in, Vin," he called, catching those blue eyes. "Party's just getting started."

Vin's eyes widened, reminding Buck of his own nakedness. For an instant, he thought he should be embarrassed. But he had seen Vin naked, several times now, and it was only fair, given what was about to happen, that Vin have a little something to equalize this.

"Seems like it's going along just fine," Vin said, trying to keep it light, Buck knew. But his voice cracked a little, the unease catching up.

Chris reached out, catching Vin by the arm and pulling him forward enough for the door to close.

The contact was rough, Buck could see the shimmering outline of Chris' fingers on Vin's skin, but it had its usual side effect as well; Vin's eyes started to dilate and he inhaled sharply.

Part of Buck wanted to look away, remembering the videos and what usually came next; he didn't want to see Chris' mouth on Vin, biting and marking, didn't want to see the play of his lover's hands on the other man's body. Didn't want to see Vin trying and failing to put those hands elsewhere.

This time, though, it was different; Chris didn't pull Vin in close, didn't try to touch. As soon as the doors closed, he let go of Vin and stepped back and away.

Buck wasn't the only one surprised; Vin leaned in close, only to find himself alone, swaying slightly as Chris turned back to the camera, his back to Vin.

Something passed over Vin's face, but Buck didn't have time to study it.

He didn't want to.

His attention was on his lover, Chris' words colder with the loss of some of his own passion.

"Don't know how to do this," he said, "want to see you, Buck, want you, but it ain't your dick I'll be touching. Tell me what to do."

Behind him, Vin's eyes were closed and he had stepped back. Buck tried not to see him, but it was hard.

"Ain't many ways to do this," he said quietly, concentrating on Chris. "You got to touch him, Chris, gotta keep the current going."

"I know," Chris whispered, stepping closer to the camera. "Just feels so wrong."

"I'm sorry to be so inconvenient," Vin said calmly, but there was a hint of annoyance to it.

Chris closed his eyes, frustrated Buck knew, but he held his temper as he said, "Don't go getting all sensitive on us. Ain't like you want this either, so don't take it personal." He opened his eyes as his fingers touched his monitor, touching where Buck's face probably was for him.

Buck swallowed, wishing he could feel the fingers that were touching the other monitor. "Vin?" he called instead, holding Chris' eyes. "How 'bout you strip down?"

"Don't want to see him, Buck," Chris whispered, his voice tired. "Don't want you to . . . "

"I already have," Buck said slowly. Behind Chris, Vin made a little noise, and Buck couldn't quite tell what it was, but he didn't have time to worry on it. "It's all right, he ain't got nothing I ain't seen before."

"That ain't the point," Chris sighed, straightening up. He met Buck's eyes, his own sad, then turned quickly and Vin was in the frame.

His hands were on the bottom of his shirt, his eyes on Chris, frowning at the sudden attention. "What?" he asked, arching one eyebrow. He seemed sure enough, but Buck saw the way he gripped the cloth, his hands knotted into fists. Vin was choosing, but he was scared, and the thought came back to Buck that this was no different from a virgin on her wedding night.

Chris took a breath, but it was stuttered, and Buck knew he was fighting some internal battle for control. When the words came, they were measured and even, a sign that he was working hard to find a line between being honest and angering Vin.

"Don't need you to show everything – don't think it'll help me." Slowly, he caught Vin's wrists, pulling them away from the fabric and tweaking the compulsion between them. "Don't need to take that off to do what we need. All you gotta do is drop your pants and bend over the bed."

The words were soft, but Buck recoiled almost as much as Vin did.

"Fuck you," Vin spat, but even as he said it, Chris stepped in closer, his hands still holding onto Vin.

"All I gotta do is touch you, ain't that right?" he asked, still keeping his voice soft, like he was gentling a horse. His hands rose, closing on Vin's upper arms, tiny sparks pinging into the air around them. "You're harder than I am already, and you don't even want this."

"Chris," Buck called, worried about where this was going, worried about how quickly Vin was losing his will. He'd seen it in the videos, but here, in front of him, it was worse, as if the person he knew was simply leaking away before his eyes.

For a second, he thought Chris was going to ignore him. But with an effort, he let Vin go and turned back.

"Ain't no need to rush this," Buck said before Chris could speak. "You wanted me here to make this easier, for both of you. I ain't gonna be the excuse for you to do more than you have to."

"Hate for you to have to see this," Chris said, quietly. "Don't want you to – "

"You stop worrying about me," Buck interrupted. "Let's worry 'bout getting this done and getting it done right. Now, be best if you two could just touch each other, like you been doing – "

"Ain't you," Chris said, his voice soft and desperate. "I want to see you, Buck, want to pretend it's you with me."

"I know," he answered, his own desperation slipping past his resolve. "So let's pretend." He paused, trying to think only about what they had to do, not about what he wanted or Chris wanted or even Vin. Especially Vin, who was looking at Chris with his own desperation. "Vin?" he said, "how about you go ahead and take your pants off and lay down on the bed."

Chris closed his eyes, his head dropping, but he didn't argue. He also didn't look at Vin, and neither did Buck. Instead, he pitched his voice low, knowing that Vin could hear it, but more interested in what Chris heard. "Look at me, Chris, look at me. Ain't one else here but the two of us right now. Think about what we were doing just a few minutes ago."

Chris slowly looked back up, his expression wary.

"Just the two of us," Buck said again, ignoring the movement in the background as Vin pushed his pants down and stepped out of them, his erection willing even as his hands trembled. "I'm touching you, Chris, my hand pulling on your cock just the way you like it, slow and easy, twisting a little at the head, pressing on the spot you like me to tease."

Chris' breath caught, and Buck saw the desire rekindling, golden flames in the green eyes. "Love to taste that spot, the tip of my tongue flicking over it fast, your drippings smearing my lips. Love to have you in my mouth, sliding deep into my throat, filling me up."

Chris swallowed, his hand drifting lower, back to his cock. Buck did the same, grateful that it was working not just for Chris but for him; everything he was saying was true, and for now, as real to him as anything could be.

Except that Vin was still standing there, uncertain, and distracting, his eyes moving from Buck to Chris and back. There was reservation in his gaze, as Buck had expected, but there was curiosity as well, the sort people had about things they didn't understand. Buck had seen it enough growing up, the twin elements of disdain for his mother and intrigue at her profession.

Vin wore that look now, as if this were something he wasn't involved in.

But it was, and the sooner he got involved, the better for them all.

Buck held his irritation, trying to keep his voice as seductive and warm as it had been. "Lay down, Vin, lay down and close your eyes, think about getting sucked on."

Chris started to turn, but Buck caught him. "Chris, you know how much I love going down on you, taking as much as I can 'til my chin's resting on your balls and my nose is bumping into your belly – love them little sounds you make, whimpering and whining, begging me to move, to let that hard shaft slide in and out of my lips, my tongue working you for everything."

Chris did make a little sound then, sort of like a whimper, and Buck went on. "All the while, I'm letting my hands move on you, your ass hot and tight, but spreading so pretty for me, letting me slip my fingers right on down to find your hole – always so tight, grabbing at me, wanting me."

It was a distinct whimper now, and he knew he had Chris hooked. "Almost too tight, Chris, always gotta be easy with you, don't want to hurt you – you never hurt me, not when you know how much better it is when I'm begging for you. Remember? Remember how good it is when I'm stretched wide, your fingers finding my sweet spot, making me beg?"

Chris erection was standing tall and ready, clear droplets oozing over the crown. Just like Buck's own. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what he had to do next.

"Get on the bed, Chris," he said, working himself as the distraction. "Be easy with me, gentle, like you were that first time – remember that first time?"

Buck did, that first frustrating, agonizing time, when Chris had treated him like spun glass and he'd lost his erection twice because it was taking too long.

Unlike Vin, he'd had male lovers before, and even though it had been a while, and he was tight, he didn't need the care and tenderness Chris had insisted on. Not that it hadn't been worth it; eventually, it always was with Chris.

He heard Chris moving, heard the shifting of the bed, heard – something, words that were short. He didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want to see, but he knew he had to.

Vin was on his back, staring up at Chris with those impossibly wide, bright eyes, and Chris – Chris was staring at Buck.

Buck held that gaze, refusing to look away even as he said the words he hated. "Touch me, Chris, just like you did then. Take my cock in your hand – "

"Ain't yours," Vin said, and Buck wondered why they hadn't gagged him.

But he was right, and they needed to include him in this, because it wasn't right not to.

"Shut up," Chris growled, and Buck saw Vin wince, surprised, when Chris' hand closed on his erection.

He didn't want to see this, didn't want to see Chris touching that slender, alien shaft with the pale pink head that sparkled silver as it was pulled. Didn't want to see Vin's hips rise, his almost-hairless groin, bare from the transfusions months ago, answering so easily to Chris' touch.

Didn't want to see Vin's hands grabbing at the bedclothes, didn't want to hear his soft voice carrying Chris' name, the sound a mixture of warning and wonder.

"That's it," Buck encouraged, just looking at Chris, watching the way he watched back, his hand moving, his tongue touching his lips.

The thought came then, partly on his own need, partly on memory. "I remember you sucking me, Chris. So hard against my leg or in my hand, so wet and good on my cock. I want you to suck me. Suck Vin, and pretend it's me, and Vin can pretend it's that pretty Tanya and I can pretend it's your mouth on me. We can all live with that, Chris. All of us."

For a second, Chris was horrified, the repugnance clear in the arch of his eyebrows and the thinning of his lips.

"Be easiest for me," Buck whispered, not caring at all that he was manipulating his partner with those words. "I can see it, Chris, see you, think of you going down on me the way you used to. I miss that, let me see it now, remember it." Unconsciously, his hand was stroking at his own cock, working it back to desire.

Chris saw it though, his gaze dropping, his tongue slipping back out for an instant. "Yeah," he agreed, the sound throaty, "yeah."

He switched hands, his right, dominant, going to his own cock. Vin whined at the change, panting heavily, but Buck ignored him, watching Chris fist himself. The gold hue around him deepened, his desire building and evident.

Buck's own matched it. "Suck me, Chris," he whispered, "Remind me what it's like."

Chris growled, low in the back of his throat, but he bent down to let his tongue swipe across the slick head of Vin's cock.

Vin cried out at the contact, the sound cutting through Buck's control. For a bare instant, he hated the other man, hated him for being there with Chris, hated him for feeling this pleasure that was Buck's by right and by choice, hated him for making his presence known.

But Chris either hadn't heard or didn't care, the sound not distracting him at all. He was licking at the straining cock, long slow laps that tasted and teased and made Buck hurt with the thought of it on his. He took some small pleasure in the fact that Vin was not as big as Buck himself was, and he had a certain hope that he didn't taste as good either. It was a cheap shot, but right now, envious and jealous and hating Vin, it was one he would allow himself.

Chris was gonna find out soon, though, if the noise Vin was making was any indication. He was moaning, keening almost, the sound cutting off in a ringing silence when Chris' lips closed around his head and sucked him in.

Buck picked it up though, unable to stop his own moan at the sight of Chris' mouth taking in the hard flesh, his cheeks hollowing as Buck had fantasized too many times in the past year. His left hand had moved from the base of Vin's cock to his hip, holding him down and still. It was an effort, Vin twisting with the need for more contact. At one point, his hand caught in Chris hair, and Chris pulled completely away, grimacing at the pull.

Vin whimpered at the loss of contact, but he was a quick learner, and his hand fell quickly away from Chris, to wrap back into the sheets.

He was close, pulsing almost with the need for release. Buck had seen it in the videos, the building of the connection between them, the intensifying of the current. Chris, though, was slower, not as fast or as bright as Vin.

"You do that so good, Chris," he said, closing his eyes to catch the image in his head. "Take all of me, suck me down."

Chris didn't say anything, but the keening started again, and Buck held onto the memory of how Chris had looked the last time he had done this, looking up at Buck from where he knelt on the floor, his eyes flaring with heat of this, sucking and tonguing and laughing deep in his throat.

Of his own hands carding through Chris' hair, shorter then, his fingers tracing the shell of those perfect ears, then down over the sharp bones of his jaw.

"God, Chris," he moaned, and his had gripped more, sliding along his shaft, picking up the speed.

Chris made a noise himself, that deep vibrating sound that Buck knew, that at this instant, he thought he felt. He jerked, his own orgasm building. Even with his eyes closed, he knew Chris was getting close as well, the light from the other room penetrating his eyelids, strobing with the gathering release.

"You're too good at this," he murmured, lost in the idea of being with Chris, "always have been, so good, knowing what I like, touching me, touching yourself. Gonna come, it's getting close – " Too close, the thought of Chris swallowing around his throbbing head sending him past his control.

He arched, strands of come rising to his chest, splattering like hard rain over his skin. His climax came in deep waves that rushed up through him, as if Chris really were on him, drawing everything he had up and out.

He was vaguely aware of Vin crying out, of Chris' own groan, then the sharp white-noise of the signal distorting. But he let himself ride through his own pleasure, let himself have this little time and space to be happy and whole and with Chris. Alone.

"Buck?"

He grunted, forcing himself back to awareness. The screen was slowly resolving itself to an image, Chris looking up, for him. He was licking at his hand, and Buck was envious, wanting to taste the flavor of his lover, wanting that shimmer on his own lips.

But the glow on Chris' flesh wasn't just from Chris, he reminded himself, and with an effort, he forced himself to look at the man Chris had just brought to release.

Vin was unmoving on the bed, his eye closed, his body lax and heavy. He seemed really out of it, and Buck remembered Mary's comment about Vin not being out of the withdrawal yet.

But there was a faint smile on his face, and why not? He'd just had one of the best blowjobs a man could ask for. Buck knew; he'd taught Chris himself.

"Buck?" Chris repeated, unwinding himself and pushing up. He staggered a little, weak and unsteady in the aftermath, but he moved in closer, blocking Buck's view of Vin. "Miss you," he rushed, "but this – this was good, as good as we can have for now. Ain't the same – but I could almost believe it was you. Almost."

Almost.

He wondered if Vin thought so too, that it was almost as good as – what? Charlotte?

He knew, though, that it really wasn't an 'almost' for Vin. Chris had given Vin something that Vin would want again, and that Chris could give him again. For a while, this would be enough for them - and for Fowler.

"Buck?" There was a grate of anxiety in Chris' voice and Buck shook his head.

"Miss you, too," he said, the words heavy on his tongue. "Miss you more than I can . . . "

"Don't," Chris sighed, "it's all right, it'll be all right."

How odd that Chris was the strong one now, but that had been the nature of their relationship from the start, even before Sarah. Now it was Chris' turn to take the weight of it, to will the reality to work.

"Want it to be me," Buck said, his voice choked off. "Should be me, not him."

"It will be again," Chris murmured. "Has to be."

Buck nodded, swiping at one cheek with the back of his hand. It was only as he felt the smear of stickiness that he remembered what was on that hand, but right now he didn't care. "Gotta go," he muttered, "gotta think."

"Buck," Chris said more urgently, "don't think too much. It ain't nothing, he ain't nothing compared to you. You're the one I want. You gotta believe that."

The hell of it was that he did believe it, and it only made it harder. "Yeah," he agreed. "I'll check in later."

Before Chris could say anything else, he cut the connection and powered down the unit, locking out any incoming calls. Then he rolled onto his side, alone in the bed that had been theirs, and cried more tears than he thought he could possibly have.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;&amp;  
+17 months, 03.97 days fusion point

The bar was small and crowded, one of the few places still open, and one of the places the team had frequented back when they were a still a team. Now, it was Ezra and Josiah; they'd left JD and Nathan at the hospital, things quiet for the moment, but it was too early to head back to their unit.

They all knew what was happening tonight, Buck's stress more telling than his oblique references to needing some privacy tonight. Nathan's confirmation came through Mary, another suggestion that Buck would need space.

So Josiah and Ezra had found themselves here, an old familiar haunt giving the illusion of old security and a time when things had been far simpler. Like most places, this one was conserving the limited energy, candles and oil lanterns creating a soft ambiance that was actually pleasant, and live musicians played softly in one corner, strings and flutes merging in a mix of different styles that mostly didn't bother Ezra too much. But he had been pleased to find a small table on the patio, far enough away that his patience wasn't tested overmuch.

"Nice night," Josiah said, settling in beside him. "Funny how you can see the stars without so many lights on."

The city lay before them, sprawling out into the open flatland of the desert, but it was mostly a dark jumble of shapes and shadows, lit only by the soft twinkles of lights much like their own here. Across the valley, on the rise facing them, even their own complex was dark, just the soft lights of the fencing and security gates outlining the crest of the butte. Unlike the city, the complex was active, a center for military intelligence which never stopped, but the windows were covered so that no light escaped to attract attention.

Except for the very faint glow on the top of the complex, 'the box'. Even here, clicks away, Ezra could see the faint shimmer in the air that came from his former team mates.

"Indeed," Ezra agreed, sipping his whiskey. "The stars."

Josiah sighed, and Ezra shook his head. That sat in silence, listening to the stream of conversation around them, light, happy voices so at odds with their own thoughts that it was almost surreal.

"Saw Charlotte couple of days ago," Josiah said, apropos of nothing.

Of course Josiah never talked just to hear his voice, and Ezra braced himself even as he asked, "And how is our she-devil?"

Josiah snorted, shaking his head, even as he answered concisely, "Pregnant."

Ezra managed not to choke on his own swallow, barely sputtering as he commented, "Well, that was certainly expedient of her."

Josiah shrugged. "Think it means Vin never stood a chance. Wonder if we should tell him, though."

Therein lay the problem. Ezra studied his drink, pondering the question with all its ramifications.

He was saved from having to answer as something around them changed, voices growing slightly louder and more animated, drawing Ezra from his thoughts. As he glanced around, searching for the source of the distraction, his eyes adjusted to a rise in the lighting, as if someone were turning a dimmer switch.

But it wasn't from inside the building. Josiah inhaled sharply, and as Ezra turned his head toward the valley, he heard a faint hum in the air.

At the top of the complex across from them, the shimmer of gold had brightened and expanded, creating a halo around the top of the complex. The glow of it penetrated the night like the sun at dawn, not blindingly bright but beating back the shadows, bathing the valley in a soft warmth.

The first arc was silver, shooting through the glow as if it would explode into the sky like a firecracker or a missile. But as it reached the apex of the gold, it seemed to explode, waves rippling outward along the surface of light. More followed, and did the same, creating a light show that was stunning and brilliant, and, Ezra knew, deadly.

A new flare joined the silver ones, this one gold, and stronger, striking the top hard – the shield, Ezra realized, the shield that was in danger of collapsing. At that instant, another gold arc shot up, weaving around a silver one, and together they hit the dome, which turned a deep crimson.

The crowd around them gasped, and Ezra heard several people laugh, a man saying, "Wish they'd tell us when they were putting on these shows! This is the third one in a week!"

"Secret weapons?" some asked, while someone else called, "Could be dangerous – they don't seem to know what they're doing up there!"

Murmurs of agreement coincided with another flare of mixed colors, another sharp strike against the shield. It wasn't as strong this time, the 'bubble' of light turning bronze instead of red.

"Damn," Josiah murmured.

It was hard to tear his eyes away, the sight of it attractive and haunting, perhaps more so because only he and Josiah understood what was truly happening. But when he finally managed it, as the intensity of color and light was waning, he wasn't surprised to find everyone in the bar staring across the valley.

"Think that was it?" Josiah asked quietly, his eyes still on the distant butte.

"Undoubtedly," Ezra answered, picking up his drink. "It would seem that our dear Captain Wilmington was successful in his unwanted task."

Josiah finally looked at him. "He's got more spine than most of us." He lifted his own drink, slugging it back quickly. As he put the glass back down on the table, he continued, "I don't envy him or any of them, not one whit."

Not for the first time, Ezra found himself in agreement. He turned back to watch the rest of the fading show, wondering how many of them would be paying the price for it in the morning.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
+17 months, 03.99 days fusion point

Chris stared at the blank screen, knowing that as he stood there, Buck was alone and upset, probably curled on himself in that empty bed, crying. The pain on Buck's face had been horrible, a devastation that Chris tried hard to deny to himself.

He sighed, scrubbed at his hair. The very movement seemed to take every bit of his concentration and his energy, as did turning around.

He shouldn't have been surprised, it wasn't like he had time to forget, but he had. Or, more like, blocked it out of his mind.

Blocked Vin out of his mind.

But there he was, sprawled on Chris' bed, naked and boneless and infuriatingly present. The taste of him was still in Chris' mouth, salty and bitter and so different from Buck that Chris fought down the urge to vomit it back up.

Except he wasn't sure any more how different it was, couldn't remember what Buck tasted like. He'd thought he'd never forget, but now, looking down at Vin, bile burning in his belly from what he'd just done to another man, he couldn't compare the lingering flavor to his lover, couldn't produce that memory clearly at all.

On the heels of that, he realized that he couldn't remember what Buck had felt like either - oh, bigger, definitely, Buck was one of the most well-endowed men Chris had ever seen. Vin didn't begin to compare. But when Chris thought about it, he considered the pain he had when he was stretched as far as he could go, his jaws tight with the effort of taking all of Buck's width, his throat filling to the point that he couldn't breathe. Compared to the work he had had to put into pleasing Buck, Vin had been easy and almost effortless, needing so much less.

Wanting so much less.

No, he caught himself, bending down to pick up Vin's pants. He didn't want easy, he wanted Buck.

"Here," he said flatly, tossing the clothing at the prone man. "You need to get off my bed."

Vin startled more at the impact of the fabric on his naked groin than he did at the words. He bolted upright, eyes blinking fast, hands going instantly to his crotch where they tangled in the cloth. "What?" he stammered, and Chris sighed.

"It's done," he answered, unable to look at the other man. Some part of him thought it odd; he'd just had Vin's dick in his mouth, but now he didn't want to see him. He wondered if he ever would again. "I want to go to bed."

"Bed?" Vin mumbled, but he moved, pulling his legs to him, as if making room for Chris. As if planning to share.

"Alone," Chris said sharply. "I want to go to bed alone. We don't need to be together right now." It was as much because of the radiation as because of the distance Chris wanted, craved at the moment.

Awareness was coming to Vin, slow and sure. He blinked, then frowned, but nodded. "Sorry," he mumbled, pulling himself over the mattress. His legs were wobbly as he got them under him, and it took several seconds for him to get his balance. It had probably been too soon for him, Chris thought, remembering how pale and weak he'd been in the bathroom not so long ago. What they'd just done, the energy they'd just released, it had taken everything Vin had.

But he couldn't bring himself to turn, or to reach out and help. To touch.

"Chris?" Vin said as he made his way to the door, the pants clutched tightly in one hand.

"What?"

"I . . . thanks. I . . it was good, real good, I – "

"Yeah, you're welcome," he said, "your reputation is still intact." He didn't mean for the bitterness to be so sharp, but the thought of what that blowjob had cost him was a price he intended to share with the other man.

"That ain't what I meant," Vin said quietly. "Even though I owe you and Buck both for that, I reckon."

Chris shook his head, still not able to look at Vin. "Reckon you do."

Vin sighed, and Chris flinched, wishing he'd just leave. Especially at his next words.

"It would have been easier on you if I'd died back then, after the whole thing with Charlotte. If I'd known then what this was gonna be like – "

"Don't." He turned finally, meeting Vin's eyes. "Ain't none of us happy with this, you know now how much of a price Buck and I are paying for this. It ain't fair to none of us, Vin, on any sort of level. It's messing up me and Buck, but it's messing up me and you, too, probably worse. I won't lie about the fact that there are times I hate you. And you'd be a liar if you said you didn't hate me as well – I know, I've seen the look in your eyes when you're cornered and my hands are on you."

Vin looked away, his shoulders sagging a little.

"But as miserable as we have it now, as hard as it is between you and me, I still prefer having you here to being alone. I don't act it much lately, but I still care about you, maybe more than I should." The radiation, he thought, but didn't say. No other explanation for why he'd come to feel more for Vin than he had before the 'accident' that had changed them.

The admission, though, felt like a betrayal, especially in light of the past hour, but it didn't sit as heavy on him as the way Vin looked at him now, relieved, and almost happy. As if Chris had given him something special.

Maybe he had, he thought, watching Vin smile a little shyly, then nod before moving out the door. Maybe he'd given Vin back his life,

He crawled into his bed, refusing to believe that it smelled at all of Vin, and curled onto his side, closing his eyes and trying to think only of what it had been like to go down on Buck.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;  
+17 months, 6.36 days fusion point

Fowler had been right, goddamn him. The Albies had come two days later, battle cruiser backing up as big a fleet as they had fielded to date. It had been close, almost too close. They'd lost hundreds of thousands of people, lost almost a third of the second quadrant infrastructure when one of the Albie destroyer class ships had dived right into the core reactor. There was still a question as to whether it was intentional or not.

Along with the loss of life, they'd lost another power plant as well as the largest agricultural division on the planet. Three cities were gone, including Chandow, the center of textile and polymer manufacturing, and Toara, the technology-research enclave. It would take years ro rebuild what had been lost, both in physical terms and in research and development. The casualties had been high, but not as high as when the fourth quadrant's power plant had gone, and at least this time, there didn't appear to be any nuclear radiation trouble. Most of the military support people and the civilians had made it to the safety shelters, and the shelters had held against the onslaught. There would be people to rebuild in the war's aftermath.

At the end, the very near end, someone in the satellite control room had done something amazing and the three cannons had fired in sync and true, and the last Albie battle cruiser had been sliced into tiny bits. That hadn't stopped the destruction, the metal remnants raining down dangerously on whole sections of the planet, but it had put the Albies on the run, and given the survivors cause for celebration.

Which was where Buck was now, with Ezra and Inez on one side of him, and Nathan and Raine on the other, Josiah dancing with his sometime lover, Emma.

Buck was at the bar, fetching the next round, already buzzing enough so that thoughts of Chris were distant, and less tainted with his own unease.

Which was probably why it happened.

Like everyone else, she was giddy and happy and living completely in the moment. She laughed as he accidentally knocked against her, almost spilling her drink, then smiled at him with laughing eyes and beautiful white teeth, her laugh rich and sweet and innocent in all the right ways.

"Louisa," she said, "Louisa Perkins." Her hand was slender but strong as it shook his, her hair dancing around her shoulders as she moved to the music.

They joined Josiah and Emma on the dance floor, then later, he joined her in her bed, losing himself in the welcome heat of her, the passion that was for him alone, the touch of someone against his body.

When he woke at dawn, the noise from the street let him know that the celebration was still going on. He felt guilt for being here, for cheating on Chris, for hurting her. He knew he should leave now, try to mitigate this disaster.

But as she rolled toward him, her eyes softer now but no less welcoming, he knew that this disaster was just going to grow. For the first time in what seemed to be a lifetime, he felt clean and content. It wouldn't last, but for now, it was enough.

When he buried himself inside her again, bringing her to climax with an ease he'd forgotten he possessed, something frozen inside him started to heat back up.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
+17 months, 6.97 days fusion point

Chris watched the videos yet again, the news loop constant, the frames slowed down in those last two seconds as the last Albouais battle cruiser exploded into space dust. He'd turned the volume down, no need to hear the news anchor's jubilant commentary on the great victory for their planet, on the rumors that the war was, for the moment, over.

It was actually possible that it was. The attack had happened two days ago, and so far, according to Fowler and all the news agencies, the Albies had no back-up ships in production, no resources with which to continue the war.

In truth, if the original reports had been correct, the Albouais had re-started the war because their world was collapsing in the wake of the first peace treaty.

For the moment, they had peace. News commentators babbled at Administration lackeys about the potential benefits of going in and finishing them off once and for all, but Chris didn't really care. They wouldn't need him for that.

And, for the moment, the drugs had cleared his system. Fowler had made good, so far, on his promise, cutting back the doses and easing them through the withdrawal. For Chris, it hadn't been that bad; the drugs he'd been taking had been in smaller quantities and for fewer concerns. He could feel a difference, though, in how he was thinking, and how he was feeling.

How he was missing Buck.

He was still staring at the monitor, the images scrolling by, his hand hovering over the address entry.

He'd called Buck more times than he could remember since that night before the battle, that night with Vin. That night that Buck had done what he'd promised, helping him, helping them to do what needed doing.

And he'd actually managed to get through to his lover a couple of times, but the conversations had been like before, short, no real sharing, just cursory answers, so distant that Chris could feel the chill on his side of the monitor.

He rubbed his hands on his thighs again, hating the way they shook. The war was over now, at least for a while. Several years, if current intelligence could be believed. They had time to devote to finding a 'cure' for him and Vin.

'Success'. They'd had it finally, enough that he wouldn't have to visit Vin any time soon. He wasn't certain which one of them was more relieved. Not that he talked much to Vin; there wasn't a lot to say, not now, not while Buck was hurting.

He typed in the address, his hand hovering over the button to send it.

"Chris?" The voice was soft, coming from the doorway. He had been so distracted he hadn't even heard it open.

Vin leaned heavily on the frame, his clothes hanging loose around him. He'd stopped losing weight, but he wasn't gaining it back. Mary hadn't said as much, but she was starting to get worried, Chris had heard it in her voice.

"You talked to Buck?" he asked, his voice quiet.

It felt wrong to be talking to Vin about this, the memory of what they had done still too close, the memory of what he had said to them both. "Don't you worry about it," he said shortly, turning back to the monitor. "I'll deal with Buck."

He waited, listening for Vin to leave, but the silence was strong for too long. He looked back, irritated, to find Vin staring at him. "You need help finding your own room?"

Vin looked away finally. "Was it that bad?" he asked.

Chris frowned. "What the hell are you talking about, was what bad?"

Vin shrugged. "What we did. Was it that bad?"

Chris drew his hands into fists, knotting them hard in hopes of keeping them still. "I don't like to think on it," he answered, truthfully. He didn't like to think on it, it was bad enough that it was haunting his dreams, the taste and feel of Vin's cock in his mouth, the emotions in those blue eyes staring up at him. Recurring, as if he wanted it again, wanted Vin again. "We did what we had to do."

Vin swallowed. "That's all it was then, what we had to do."

Chris blew out a breath, the irritation moving into anger as the images played more closely to the surface of his thoughts. "What the hell else could it have been? You're straight and I love Buck. I sucked you off, we saved the world, did what we had to do. I'm sorry if you didn't like it, but it's done now, you don't have to worry about me touching you anymore. You're safe, it's over. Ain't that what you want?"

Vin didn't say anything, but his gaze drifted slowly back to settle on Chris. It was the same look he had worn that last time, that same combination of more things than Chris could sort.

More things than he wanted to sort.

The same look he wore in those damned dreams.

Maybe the drugs hadn't completely cleared Vin's system. That was the only answer. 'Cause the Vin Tanner he knew would never have looked at him the way Buck did. The way Buck used to, anyway.

He closed his eyes, the thought of Buck looking at him that way making him weak with want. And ill with the fear of having lost it.

When he finally looked again, Vin was gone.

Buck didn't answer.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;  
+17 months, 8.22 days fusion point

"Where the hell have you been, Buck?" JD demanded, but there was a smile on his face and his hug was warm, if weak. "I been out of the hospital a whole day now!"

"Well, you know how to call me – "

"I been trying! We all have!"

And they probably had been, Buck thought; he'd stopped checking his messages and his pager after the fifth call from Chris. Glancing about the room, seeing the looks on Josiah and Ezra's faces, he knew that was a good guess.

"How you doin'?" he asked instead, stepping back to get a good look at the kid. "You look great!"

"Feels great to be out of that place!" JD shot back, but his smile was still in place and he did look – great.

As ever, JD rambled on about all the wonderful things about being out, about seeing Casey, being in his own bed, being with the team, winning the war. And inevitably, he asked the questions Buck had been desperately trying to ignore. "How are Chris and Vin? I haven't been able to get through since – well, I guess, since – well . . . "

Discretion, Buck thought, the kid gets it just in time not to need it.

Ezra answered, more to protect JD, Buck knew, than to help him out. "They're good, JD, as thrilled as the rest of us at the current turn in the military situation."

JD's face darkened. "Fowler sure got what he wanted out of them, didn't he? They gave him what he wanted, enough to blow that last cruiser into space dust. You haven't talked to Chris?"

Ezra's gaze flicked to Buck, but Josiah answered. "I talked to Vin this morning. Seems things are getting back to normal up there, as much as they can, anyway. Haven't you talked to Chris, Buck?" The echo of JD's question was intentional, Buck knew.

Putting it all right out on the table. He looked at Josiah, trying to hold his composure, seeing the knowledge in the other man's face. They all knew where he'd been these last two days and why. "Reckon Chris and I have said all we need to say for right now. He's doing just fine."

He didn't give them a chance to argue or even ask, turning instead and walking back to his room.

The computer greeted him with the message chime the minute he stepped through the door. The big-screen monitor flashed '17 messages', against a screen-saver of moving pictures of him and Chris, and the team, and his ma.

The big-screen monitor that he'd watched Chris go down on Vin.

Needed to get the damned thing out of here as soon as possible, before he started remembering –

"Buck?"

He stared, completely unprepared for Chris to be looking at him, his green eyes so familiar.

"How the hell - ?" he started, moving to shut down the feed.

"Please, Buck, please. Just give me a minute – please."

It had been days since he'd heard Chris' voice, or seen his face. Days of trying to forget everything he'd been a part of that night. But it had been years since he'd seen Chris the way he was now, desperate and begging and in his right mind.

The shock of it did more to give him pause than the begging itself.

"I know you're angry, I know you're hurt – in your place, I don't know how I'd be, other than ready to shoot you and whoever it was. But just give me a chance."

Buck waited out the words, thinking of the last time he'd talked to Chris, the love, the need, the desperation. "Kinda tired, Chris, been a long several days."

"Reckon so," Chris said quietly, and Buck knew that Chris knew where he'd been. Not the specifics; he didn't figure anyone here had actually told Chris, but Chris had always been good at reading people. Especially good at reading him. "Was it . . . " Chris stopped himself, looking away from the camera, and Buck saw the war in his face. He was angry and hurt and all the things that Chris Larabee did so very damned well.

But he was also aware that he had no right to be. That there was nothing he could do or say to give Buck what he needed.

"I'm sorry, Chris," he said finally, his voice rough. "I can't . . .it's too much right now. Give me some time, let me work it out in my head."

Chris nodded, but his voice was flat as he asked, "You seeing her? I assume it's a her. You always did find women more healing."

Buck hesitated, but only for a few seconds. He'd thought of this all the way back to the room, knowing he was gonna have to deal with it. "We're friends, just like you and Vin – "

"Don't bring him into this," Chris snarled, the anger finally winning out. "I didn't choose, don't want him."

"I know you don't," Buck said, and he did. "Don't change the fact that it was his cock in your mouth."

"And you saw that because I needed your help, Buck, because I need you!" There was heat in the words but the desperation was there as well. And the fear.

"I know," he said again. "I know all of it. I know that for all his wanting it to be otherwise, Vin's developing feelings for you, feelings that have him all screwed up. And for all your wanting it to be simple, it ain't. And for all my wanting, Chris, I got stuck in the middle, trying to make it so that the person I care most about in the world and one of my closest friends could do something that burns in my gut like cleaning bleach. I helped you both, Chris, and I'll probably end up having to do it again. And I'll do it, because I care that much about you, and about him, and about saving this world. But I have a need, too. I need to feel like I'm somebody on my own, somebody that can still bring happiness and pleasure to another human without selling a part of my soul."

Chris stared at him, the sadness cutting right to Buck's heart. "I guess I understand that," he said quietly. "And I'm sorry, Buck, I really am."

"Me too," Buck agreed. "I ain't made no decisions about her. She's a good woman, too good for me to hurt her. I ain't looking to replace you or end what we got, not unless that's what you want. Hell, I don't even know if I'll see her again. But no matter what, right now, I need to come to terms with me, Chris, not you and not Vin, but myself. Do you understand that?"

Chris wanted to argue, the words were on his lips, ready to spew forth. He didn't though, merely nodding his head. "Will you stay in touch?"

Buck smiled. "Yeah, I will. Better than I have these past few days, if you want me to."

Chris nodded. "I do. Miss you. That wasn't a lie then, ain't one now."

"I know."

Chris hesitated, then said slowly, "The war's over, at least for now. They can start working on getting us cured, Buck, getting me out of here, or at least to a safe point."

Buck swallowed, looking away from the other man. "You think that's what Fowler's gonna do? You think he's gonna let you and Vin just walk away, Chris? Yeah, the war's over – until the Albouais build another ship or two."

Chris took a deep breath, and Buck knew in the way the other man's shoulders straightened that he wasn't saying anything Chris hadn't already considered. Part of him was thankful; whatever had been going on with Chris, with Fowler and the drugs and the blackmail, at this moment, Chris was the man he had known for so very long. "I know," he said simply. "And I know the price of rebuilding, getting our own people back together."

Buck looked at him. "Were you gonna bullshit me about that? Make me promises you suspected or knew you weren't gonna be able to keep?"

Chris didn't look away. "I can't lie to you, Buck. Even if I tried, you'd know. Everything I do, everything Vin and I do is bright and shiny and lit up for the world to see." He sighed. "No, no promises. And I wouldn't ask any of you. Would be stupid." Chris looked away then, his voice quiet. "This it, then? We done?"

And there was the heart of it. Buck sighed. "What do you want me to say, Chris? That it's okay for you to fuck Vin as long as you love me? I know you ain't got a choice. Don't make it any easier."

"You still love me?" The question was so faint that Buck almost didn't hear it. Wished he hadn't.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing at his face. "Bigger question is if you still love me."

Chris smiled then, that soft, gentle smile that was so rare. "More than anything, Buck. I know you don't believe it, but thinking of you is all that got me through . . . well, I can't do it without you. Won't do it without you."

The threat was there, subtle and scary, reminding Buck that there was still more he could lose. The memory of Chris' madness returned, Vin's as well, and with it, the knowledge of how fine the line was for them both. Right now, Chris seemed to be on the right side of it, on the same side with Buck. But then, Buck wasn't certain of his own mind at the moment. Louisa's perfume still clung to his clothes, the impression of her body on his.

"Buck?"

He nodded, knowing that for now, there wasn't a choice. "All right, Chris. We'll do what we have to do."

He wondered passingly if this was how Charlotte had felt.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;  
+17 months, 12.07 days fusion point

Josiah was surprised to find anyone up when he entered the common room; it was almost two in the morning and he himself was bound for bed as quickly as he could get there.

"Long day?" Buck asked quietly, smiling as Josiah set his kit down on a chair and headed to the cooler box. "Nathan said you did a second run to the fourth quad."

"Is it that bad?" JD asked from where he was sitting at the table across from Buck. "The news feeds have been pretty vague, just saying that the relief effort is working."

Josiah yawned as he pulled out a beer, then held it up, the offer clear. Buck shook his head and JD looked at the bottle hungrily then sighed and shook his head as well. With all the meds he was on, alcohol was prohibited and he knew that they knew it.

"It's bad," Josiah answered, opening the bottle and taking a long swallow before adding, "but it's coming along."

"Nathan said you ran two runs today," JD said with a sort of enthusiasm. He was beginning to get his energy back, for which they were all thankful.

Josiah grinned, walking back to the table. "They need pilots right now, and there's not a lot more we can do. Buck, you're taking a run tomorrow, aren't you?"

He turned his eyes to their team leader, noting how washed out he looked.

Part of him was relieved to see that Buck was suffering. Not that he wanted his friend to suffer, not that Buck hadn't suffered enough already with this whole thing. But he had spoken to Chris several times, and to Vin as well, when Vin would answer, and he knew that the two of them were hurting as well. Chris more so by Buck's behavior, of course, but Vin was caught in it as much because he was not only losing Buck but Chris as well.

It was a nasty mess, as horrible as any set of friendships could be.

"Yeah," Buck answered, his voice low and throaty. "First quad, tomorrow afternoon, medical supplies and food, I think."

"Good," Josiah nodded. Not that Buck needed his approval but right now, he didn't have much else to give.

"Speaking of which, I'd best get to bed," he said, pushing himself up. He looked at JD, frowning. "Don't be up too late, don't be pushing yourself. We need you back on your feet as soon as possible."

JD rolled his eyes, but Josiah knew he was as much pleased with the concern as annoyed by it. "Yes, Dad," he said, drawing the words out in long syllables, sounding as much like a kid as Josiah had ever heard.

It worked, though; Buck grinned and reached over, ruffling JD's hair. He nodded a goodnight to Josiah and headed off to his room, limping slightly.

Josiah picked up his kit, planning to head off to his bed as well, when JD asked quietly, "We ever gonna be all right again?"

He sighed, not really wanting to have this conversation, but knowing that it was inevitable. "Lot of ways to answer that. You want to narrow down my possible choices?" Even though he already knew.

The answer was confirmed by the look JD cast to the door through which Buck had disappeared.

Josiah sighed again, but before he had a chance to start to answer, JD continued.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like, having to watch Chris with Vin. I couldn't do it if it was Casey and I'm not even as much in love with her as Chris and Buck are – they still love each other, don't they? Isn't that why he's hurting so bad?"

Josiah shook his head, but he smiled slightly. Out of the mouths of babes. "Suppose so," he said. "But he's got to find his own way with this, JD, they all do. And they will. You've trusted them for a long time. Trust them a little longer."

JD looked at him, and Josiah saw the maturity he knew JD had, but often kept hidden. It came out in his next words as well. "The war's over, more or less, but it's not for Chris and Vin, is it? Fowler's not going to leave them alone, so he's not going to leave Buck alone, is he?"

Josiah stared at the younger man, appreciating his insight and yet hating that his innocence was gone. He hadn't even seen it pass, even though he thought, perhaps, that almost dying might have rushed the process along faster than any of them had thought. "No, he's not. And no, there's not a damned thing any of us can do about it other than try to be the best friends we can be to them."

JD leaned forward, his eyes bright with anger. But even as he started to speak, Josiah saw the truth of it settle in his young features, hardening them to a sad worry. The anger died, but in its place was a resolve that Josiah understood. "We'll dp whatever we can," JD said. "For each of them."

Josiah lifted his bottle in a small toast. "That we will, JD Dunne, that we will."

As he drank, he saw JD gaze back to Buck's door. He knew where the youngest member of the team would start, which was good. He'd have more success there than with the other two.

And he hoped JD would have success; Buck was the key to keeping Chris and Vin safe, Chris first, then Vin through the strange connection the three of them had. Josiah himself had talked to both Chris and Vin in the past few days and while they both seemed a lot better, a lot more themselves, there was still something at play. Chris was depressed, worried about losing Buck. Even without saying it, it was there in his eyes.

Vin, though . . . It wasn't the depression, like it had been around the time Charlotte had pushed the final button. And it wasn't the desperation he'd had during the worst of the drugging.

But it was something like them both, but still different. A sort of resignation, as if he'd given up on fighting. As if he was biding his time.

Josiah hoped it was something that simple, but he doubted it. Things didn't seem to be going all that well for any of them, least of all Vin and Chris.

"Night, Josiah," JD said, slowly getting to his feet. He held on to the table for a few seconds, getting his balance, and Josiah waited, in case he needed to help.

"You all right?" he asked, and JD rewarded him with a smile.

"I will be," he said, reaching for his one crutch. "We all will."

Josiah nodded, hoping the kid was right.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
+17 months 15.76 days fusion point

Vin sat quietly on the bed, waiting. Eddie was in his arms, her little nose twitching against the thin skin of his wrist and setting off little flares of color. Bob was in his cage, running on the plastic wheel. It was almost worn out already and they'd only had it several days. But the metal ones, while lasting longer, picked up the radiation too quickly. The rat had almost set the place on fire the other night, the flames catching Vin's attention before they got out of hand. That was only because he was in the room more now, for the moment. Until Fowler needed them again, and let the shield fall, forcing them back together.

Or the compulsion came upon them.

It was time, past time, really, but then, Chris had been so depressed after talking to Buck that Vin knew he would fight it. Hell, they were both fighting it. But the radiation would have its way – ten to fourteen days, Fowler believed, that was how long they could be around each other before the need to 'complete the circuit' would overpower their rational control. It had been twelve days since they had been together that last time, Buck talking Chris through it. Seven days since Buck had said whatever it was that Chris refused to talk about.

Fowler had cut back on the drugs, a lot, but not as much as he claimed. They weren't all gone, Vin knew that. He also knew that the shield Fowler had put back into place between their rooms was still completely at his control. He could drop it whenever he wanted, forcing the resonance between them to build.

The chime came first, a warning more than an announcement. He didn't move, didn't have to. Chris opened the door with the conviction of someone who knew he was in charge. He did blink, a little startled at the fact that Vin was on the bed, but he covered himself quickly. He always had. He did glare at Eddie though, his nose wrinkling in distaste, and Vin pulled the rat closer, protectively.

"We need to talk," Chris said flatly, and Vin almost smiled. Chris continued though, as if Vin's silence was permission. Maybe it was, Vin thought. He'd given up fighting, there was no point. Choose your life, Buck had said, and he was trying to do that. That attitude wasn't entirely new to him, but the passivity it required now was. The fact that he was adapting faster than he'd expected was his most conclusive proof that Fowler's drugs were still somewhere in his body.

"Fowler's asked for our help," Chris stated, stepping into the room. "They've placed us high on the list of projects, trying to find a way to get us cured or at least safe for others to be around. Mary's back in charge of the medical section of the project, and Fowler put a reactor at her disposal. We're a top priority, once they get the hospitals stabilized and the recovery effort underway."

He was smiling and Vin wondered what drugs Fowler was slipping now to Chris, if there was an hallucinogen. Had to be if he truly believed Fowler's promises.

"To make that happen faster, they need us to keep supplying power – not at the level that we were, but enough to keep things working while they get the other power plants back on-line. Fowler thinks we should be okay if we do it once every three or four weeks or so, as long as we still – you know, supplement, on our own. That will probably time out with when our bodies force it anyway. If it's going to happen, we may as well use it for our own good this time."

Chris looked at him, his eyes bright but determined.

He expected it to start then, watched Chris' hands, waiting for one to reach for him.

But Chris didn't move to him, not yet. He stayed still, just looking at Vin, his green eyes sharp. "You with me in this?"

Vin tilted his head, surprised when Chris actually seemed to expect an answer. 'Choose what you got.' But Vin realized he didn't know what he had, and the only person who could answer that for him stood right in his doorway. After a few seconds, he said, "Does it matter?" watching Chris closely.

Chris' expression hardened, his body straightening. "Reckon not. Just be easier on all of us if you'd come willing. We knew it was going to come to this. You going to make it hard again?"

The pun was unintentional, but Vin didn't miss it. Nor did he misunderstand the message. "No. I reckon I'm with you," he said softly. "Pretty much always have been."

Chris nodded, relaxing a little, as if that were the answer to everything. Maybe it was, Vin thought. It was gonna be the only answer Chris would accept, from him, anyway.

And it was the only answer he had clear in his own head. All the rest – well, that was still the drugs talking. At the worst, genetic-mutation, like Fowler said. Had to be. There was no way he could be falling for Chris, no way he could actually want this thing between them, not matter how good it had been that last time, Chris' mouth on him, driving him crazy.

No way that he could want to be trapped in here with Chris, doing what they were doing.

"I'm gonna go talk to Buck. Going to need him, if he'll help. You okay with that?"

Something stirred in him, something that should have been shame or embarrassment, but that felt a lot more like jealousy. But he shrugged, hearing the words without really thinking about them. "Whatever it takes."

"Good," Chris smiled, and something sparked in his eyes. "You get some rest."

He left then, just a simple three steps to and through the door, and the disappointment was sharp, but short. There was nowhere Chris could really go, was there? They were stuck here together, probably for the rest of their lives. If Chris needed the hope of getting out to keep him going, then he'd have it.

But Vin knew better. Fowler was right, damn him. Best to take what he could get before it was gone. Or as Buck had said so well, 'Choose what you have.'

He was choosing.

He stretched out on the bed, pulling Eddie to his chest to pet the furry head as he turned to watch the screensaver scroll. Pictures of the jungles in the fourth quadrant, things he knew he'd never see again.

Time. It was all just a matter of time.


End file.
